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et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  n6cessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  m6thode. 


1 

2 

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32X 


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nZTATO'  T> 


OIVii>0 


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mk 


I: 


Till-: 


POETICAL  WORKS 


OF 


JAMF>3  HASKINS,  A.B,  M.  B., 


THIN.  COLL.  DUBLIN. 


BY  HENRY    BALDWIN^  A.  M. 

OF    OSGOODE    HALL,    U.  C.    DAtlRISTEU    AT    LA\T. 


HARTFORD. 
H.  S.  PARSONS,  G,  CENTRAL  ROW. 

1848. 


IT 


i 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congros'?,  in  the  year  18-lS,  ijy 

II.  S.  PARSONS, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Conrtof  Connecticut. 


CONTENTS. 

MEMOIR.  ^,    ^. 

Sonnet  to  the  Memory  of  Dr.  Haskins. 

Editor's  Remarks.  ^   ,     ,-, 

The  Author's  Address  to  the  Reader  of  the  Cross. 

THE  CROSS. 

Notes  on  the  Cross. 
HYMNS  AND  SACRED  POEMS. 

Notes  on  the  Hymns. 
SONGS  OF  SOLITUDE. 

Notes  on  do. 
OCCASIONAL  PIECES. 

The  Flow  ir-i  of  the  Grave. 

To  my  H<  art. 

The  Farcw  11. 

The  Flowers  of  Paradise. 

Lasting  l.iiv'>. 

We  shall  h.it  wake  to  Love.  ^  i^   •«  T.. 

To  my  Old.  vied,  and  unflinching  Friend,  Henry  Baldwin,  Ji. 

To  my  lnr;iM  Daughter. 

Winter. 

The  Com  n- St. 

The  Stars. 

Tears  for  ili"  Dead. 

Musings  ;ri  Midnight. 

Sorrow':^  \'is'on. 

The  Christian's  Soliloquy, 

The  Home  of  Rest. 

1* 


9 

19 

23 

23 

26 

103 

105 

155 

167 

19! 

193 

195 

196 
i( 

198 

200 

203 

204 

206 

207 

209 

210 

211 

212 

214 

217 

218 


!1 


VI  COXTKSITS. 

Piiraphraso  of  Psalm  XLII. 

Fear. 

I'arapliraso  of  the  Lord's  Prayer. 

Paraphrase  of  Psalm  XXIII. 

Notes  on  Occasional  Pieces. 
MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 
Inscription. 
The  Solitary. 
Midnight. 

Thunder  at  Midnight. 
The  Sleep  of  Death. 
The  Sting-  of  Death. 
Pestilence. 
Death. 

Thoughts  on  the  Past. 
Sonnets. 

To  Jiis  Brotlier. 

'Iho  Loved  of  the  Earth. 
Aspirations. 
To  the  Wind. 
Tempt&tion. 
The  Release. 
To  Health. 
Freedom. 
Nature's  Nobility. 
Thermopylaj. 
The  Dying  Soldier. 
The  Soldier's  Funeral! 
The  Defence  of  Derry. 
The  Spires  of  Old  England. 
The  Mourning  Mother. 
The  Wanderer  brought  home. 
Coming  to  Christ, 
ril  think  on  Thee. 
The  Morning  Sun. 
Winter. 


2-20 
2i2l 
222 
223 
225 
227 
228 
229 
230 
231 
232 
233 
235 
236 
237 

239 

240 

2U 
« 

« 

246 
247 
248 
249 
251 
253 
258 
25fi 
2G1 
263 
267 
268 
269 
272 


£ 


C05TENTS. 


▼IT 


Spring. 

To  the  River  Trent. 

The  Birds  of  Spring. 

Italian  Night  Scene. 

Nicrht  Storm,  on  the  South  coast  of  Italy. 

Morning,  on  the  coast  of  Caratnan.a. 

To  the  Sun. 

To  Time. 

Solitude. 

To  Homer. 

"  Virgil. 

«  Dante. 

"  Tasso. 

»  Milton. 

"  Shakspeare. 

«'  Byron. 

««  Chatterton, 

•'  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson. 
On  Transcendentalism. 

On  Terza  Rima,  and  Sonnets. 

On  the  Reading  of  Hexameter  Verae. 

On  Philology. 

To  a  Friend  Philologically  devoted. 

The  Friendship  of  the  World. 

Soarings  Aloft. 

On  Old  Age. 

To  Ireland. 

Palmyra. 

Belshazzar. 

Peter  the  Hermit's  Address-. 

Jerusalem. 

To  the  Bible; 

To  the*  World. 

The  Burial  at  Sea. 

The  Dying  Bard. 

Notes  on  the  Misceltaneoua  Poems. 


273 

275 

277 

378 

S80 

286 

287 

388 

M 

289 

(( 

290 
291 

29-2 

293 
294 

295 

296 
297 
298 

299 

302 
304 
307 
310 
312 
313 

315 
319 


MEMOIR. 


i 


I 


James  Haskixs,  Ihe  A'ltlior  of  t!»c  following  Poems,  was  a  na- 
tive of  Dublin.  He  was  ooiu  iii  the  year  1805.  His  father  was 
a  man  of  considoi.i:  lo  wealth  :  probably  one  of  the  richest  busi- 
ness men  in  tliat  elegant  cily.  He  had  made  his  fortune  by  sup- 
plying the  Government  with  clothing,  for  the  troops.  Being  of  a 
most  liberal  disposition,  he  did  not  regard  his  gains  as  made  for 
mere  selfish  uses  ;  but  lived  in  the  true  style  of  Irish  hospitality. 
At  his  table,  many  attentive  friends  wore  glad  to  find  themselves 
welcome,  while  his  prosperity  continued ;  ar.d  while,  together  with 
more  solid  comforts,  they  could  enjoy,  (according  to  the  style  of 
those  days,)  abundance  of  the  best  wines,  at  no  cost  to  themselves. 
This  gentleman  was  the  beau  ideal  of  the  generous,  warm-heart- 
ed, whole-souled  Irishman.  He  was  distinguished  for  humour : 
and  from  him  our  Poet  inherited  thai  quality  in  a  very  high  de- 
gree. 

His  mother's  maiden  name  was  Kelly.  Very  little  information 
could  at  present  be  given,  as  regards  incident,  or  matter  of  fact, 
in  her  personal  history.  But  thus  much  the  Editor  would  be  most 
imwilling  to  omit.  There  is  in  existence  an  admirably  ?xecuted 
miniature '  portrait  of  this  lady :  of  which  we  may  remark — that 
notwithstanding  the  effect  of  the  most  absurd  and  unnatural  fash- 
ion, (prevalent  in  her  day,)of  covering  the  forehead  with  the  hair : 
yet  the  intellectual  beauty  of  that  countenance  is  such  as  we  can- 
not adequately  describe.  This  miniature  possesses,  for  the  inti- 
mate friend,  at  least,  of  the  Poet,  one  charm  which  is  even  still 


i 


MEMOIR. 


I. 


!    I 


ll   v 


It  is  the  only 


'xisling  memento,  or  in  a  qualificcl  sonso, 
likeness,  or  resemblance  of  the  full  face  of  our  Poet  himself. 

From  his  mother  lie  inherited  as  well  his  general  cast  and  ex- 
pression of  countenance,  features,  forehead,  and  general  contour 
of  his  head  :  as  also  that  peculiar  temperament ;  which  was  the 
ijrtile  source  of  keen,  and  deep  suffering,  during  liiiipilgrima^'C 
throuirh  this  vale  of  tears. 

Possessing  such  ample  means,  Mr.  Ilaskins  aftbrded  his  sons 
those  great  and  distinguished  advantages,  which  i^  residence  in 
Dublin  pkccd  at  his  door.  At  the  usual  time  of  life,  our  Author 
entered  the  University  of  Trinity  College.  It  is  not  in  our  power 
to  relate  many  incidents  of  liis  Academic  course  :  and  such  as 
might  well  be  introduced  in  a  complete  Biography,  are  l;cre  of  ne- 
cessity passed  over.  The  fruits  of  such  intellectual  culture — 
wliere  the  soil  was  so  worthy,  and  so  grateful — are  before  tho 
Reader.  In  that  favoured  seat  of  Learning,  his  mind  became 
deeply  imbued  in  the  classics  of  Greece  and  Rome.  And  if  a 
long,  and  most  intimate  accjuaintance  with  him,  in  mature  years, 
iray  be  accepted  as  authorising  the  Editor  to  pronounce  bis  opin- 
ion :  he  must  say — that  Dr.  Haskins  did  honor  to  his  Alma  Mu- 
ter.   In  his  case — 

"Ingenuas  didicisse  fideliter  artes" — was  no  dead  letter. 
Whatever  ho  thought  worthy  of  lea  filing,  was  most  faithfully 
treasured  up  in  the  stores  of  Memory. 

On  graduating  in  Arts,  he  entered  on  the  study  of  Medicine. 
He  took  the  Bachelor's  degree  in  both  these.  He  also  studied 
Surgery  and  other  branches  of  Medical  Science,  with  equal  ad- 
vantages. 

Riches  "  make  themselves  wings ;"  and  "  fly  away."  It  must 
have  been  after  our  Author's  graduation,  or  at  all  events  after  the 


ftM 


T 


1^ 


I 


'*•  ;4r 


MEMOIR. 


XI 


'd  sonso, 

iClf. 

and  ox- 
contour 
was  the 
liirima{.'C 


« 


principal  part  of  the  expenses  of  a  College  course  had  been  de- 
frayed, that  a  change  took  place  in  his  father's  circumstances. 
Some  such  untoward  events,  as  occasionally  alTect  the  affairs  of 
the  most  prudcnt,brought  about  a  pecuniary  embarrassment ;  which 
in  a  little  time  could  have  been  entirely  got  over.  But  at  this 
jtincture,  bad  advice  was  intruded ;  and  proved  fatal.  Sir.  Ha8- 
kins  was  not  under  any  necessity  of  becoming  bankrupt :  but  his 
friends  advised  him— nay  urged  him— to  allow  the '  Slatute\as  it 
is  there  expressed,)  to  be  issued;  and  in  an  evil  hour  for  his  worldly 
interests,  he  yielded.  The  effect  was  such  as  his  affairs  never  re- 
covered from. 

Now  his  friends  were  tried ;  and,  as  usual,  found  wanting.  AH 
turned  their  backs  on  him,  at  whose  expense  they  had  often  feast- 
ed. 

Deprived  of  the  advantages  which  his  former  circumstances 
had  promised  for  the  commencement  of  a  professional  career ; 
and  influenced  by  various  considerations  which  cannot  now  be 
discussed,  Dr.  Ilaskins  iiad  recourse  to  the  honourable  occupation 
of  teacliing.  As  a  private  tutor  he  found  eligible  situations,  suc- 
cessively, in  several  most  respectable  families.  Changes  were 
necessarily  incident  to  such  a  mode  of  life.  He  resided  in  vari- 
ous parts  of  Ireland;  and  had  ojiportunities  of  visiting  the  most 
sublime,  and  the  most  beautiful,  of  those  diversified  scenes,  that 
charm  the  traveller  in  the  Emerald  Isle.  The  scenery  of  the 
County  of  Wicklow  was  his  I'avourite  topic  ;  when  conversing  on 
such  subjects. 

After  passing  some  years  in  this  way.  ho  went  over  to  England  ; 
and  pursued  the  same  vocation  for  some  time  at  Clifton,  near  Bris- 
tol. Here  some  of  hn  earlier  poems  were  written  ;  including  a 
Sc;  that  he  latterly  rcviited  ai:d  improved.    At  one  time,  he  was 


■f 


XII 


MEMOIR. 


t 


fi- 
ll 


Usher  in  some  coiwidcrablc  Academy.  The  laborious  nature  of 
the  duties  imposed  in  some  such  situations,  and,  indeed  the  impos- 
sibilities required  in  some  schools,  (according  to  the  system  of 
those  days,)  seem  quite  sufficient  to  account  for  occasional  remo- 
vals. And  perhaps  it  is  a  rare  case,  for  a  man  to  find  himself  so 
comfortably  situated  in  any  such  jjlace  ;  as  not  after  a  while — for 
the  sake  of  health,  or  comfort,  or  to  improve  his  pecuniary  circum- 
stances—to  desire  a  change.  But  for  one  who  has  attained  a 
learned  piofession,  after  so  much  persevering  application,  to  make 
up  his  mind  to  abandon  all  the  advantages  thus  toiled  for,  and  !o 
rest  satisfied  in  an  inferior  and  subordinate  situation,  would  be  still 
less  natural. 

Dr.  Haskins  returned  to  Ireland.  The  next  important  event 
that  we  have  to  notice  in  his  life,  is  his  emigration  from  the  laiiJ 
of  his  nativity  to  North  America. 

Perhaps  this  may  bo  considered  a  proper  occasion,  on  which  to 
introduce  some  description  of  our  Author's  character  and  turn  of 
mind  :  his  views  in  determining  on  such  a  course  as  the  leaving 
the  elegant  city  of  Dublin,  and  the  friends  of  his  youth,  to  be- 
come a  Colonist  in  the  wilds  of  Canada  *,  and  the  influence 
which  was  thus  exerted  on  his  after  life. 

Ilis  father  had  designed  him  for  the  Ministry.  They  were 
members  of  the  Church  of  England.  Had  not  our  Author  been 
such,  he  could  not,  in  those  days,  have  entered  Trinity  College. 
But  his  genius  was  too  decided — his  faculties,  in  general  by  far 
too  energetic  ;  to  bo  led  into  just  such  a  sphere  of  action,  as  an- 
other mind  might  select  for  him.  He  read  much  in  religions 
books,  practical  as  well  as  speculative ;  not  probably,  at  anytime, 
with  an  intention  of  eventually  pursuing  a  theological  course  of 
study :  but  to  satisfy  his  own  mind  on  important  points.    In  some, 


i 


t 


MEMOIR. 


xin 


3  nature  of 

the  impos- 

system  of 

ional  rcmo- 

himself  so 

while — for 

iary  circum- 

s  attained  a 

ion,  to  make 

1  for,  and  to 

ivould  be  siill 

)ortant  event 
rem  the  laiul 

,  on  whicli  to 
r  and  turn  of 
s  ilio  leaving,' 
youth,  to  bc- 
the  influence 

They  were 
Author  been 
•inity  College, 
general  by  far 
action,  as  an- 
1  in  religious 
y,  at  any  time, 
ical  course  of 
nts.    In  some, 


■^ 


at  least,  of  ihc  various  situations,  which  he  filled  with  perfect 
satisfixction  to  liis  employers,  he  had  the  advantage  of  daily  con- 
versation with  people  of  deep  piety.  His  conscience  was  not  to  be 
Kitisfied  with  a  hasty  consideration  of  sucn  subjects.  He  read 
much,  and  thought  deeply. 

Too  much  reading,  and  study,  on  subjects  which  stimulated  his 
mind  to  intense  application,  with  the  sedentary  habits  thus  induc- 
^--d.,  proved  injurious  to  his  health  and  comfort.  He  -.vould  not,  or 
could  not,  in  general,  pass  by  with  a  mere  glance,  or  a  partial,  oc- 
casional attention,  any  thing  that  ho  perceived  to  be  of  intrinsic, 
and  high  importance.  Much  less  could  he  thus  dismiss  the  sol- 
cuin  questions  which  concern  not  only  the  present  interests,  but 
the  eternal  future  of  the  soul.  His  temperament  was  nervo-b'- 
iious  His  energy,  in  the  exercise  of  every  faculty,  his  power  of 
intense  concentration  of  thought  on  any  subject  esteemed  worthy 
of  his  reflections,  his  ready  and  inexhaustible  endurance  of  bodily 
discomfort  in  the  prosecution  of  lu's  favourite  pursuits — though 
well  known,  as  matter  of  frequent  observation,  to  the  writer  of 
this  sketch,  and  appreciated  too  by  him.  as  worthy  of  admiration — 
would  require  for  adequate  description,  not  only  much  more  space 
and  leisure ;  but  probably  a  more  practised  and  an  abler  pen. 
Indeed,  had  it  not  been  the  obvious  leading  of  Providence;  and  the 
natural  result  of  the  closest  friendship,  and  the  deepest  interest  in 
Ills  works;  and  also  a  necessary  consequence  of  there  being  no 
other  person  intimately  acquainted  with  his  character,  his  mental 
e.\erclses,  his  opinions  after  his  judgment  was  matured,  his  reli- 
gious faith  and  hope,  his  habits,  his  general  circumstance*,  and 
tlie  incidents  of  his  life,  during  the  eleven  years  from  his  arrival  in 
Canada  to  the  time  of  his  decease ;  it  would  probably  not  have 
been  the  duty  of  the  writer  to  have  imdertaken  to  describe  one  so 


XIY 


MEMOIR. 


i 


\  I 


•nperior  to  him  in  scliolarship,  in  general  cultivation  of  mind,  ac- 
quaintance with  Poetry  in  particular,  and  probably  in  every  de- 
partment of  intellectual  capacity  and  energy,  as  v.'as  Dr.Haskir.s. 
Our  Author  determined,  for  a  time,  to  lay  aside  becks.    He  saw 
no  earthly  prospect  of  comfort  before  him,  but  in  a  life  of  activity, 
and  exertion  :  rej^.ilar  hours,  with  abundant  bodily  exercise  in  tli(? 
free  air,  remote  from  cities.     All  considerations  favouring  such  a 
course,  he  made  choice  of  Canada,  as  his  country ;  and  in  the 
year  1834,  bade  farewell  to  Dublin,  and  to  his  native  land.     Ac- 
companied by  his  sister,  since  dcceased,(to  whom  he  has  inscribed 
his  Miscellaneous  Poems.)   and  their  Aunt — he  arrived  at  Belle- 
ville, on  the  Bay  of  Quinte,  Upper  Canada,  in  the  month  of  July , 
in  the  same  year. 

Very  shortly  after  his  arrival,  the  acquaintance  commenced  be- 
tween him  and  the  writer  ;  which  led  the  way  to  a  friendship  that 
no  vicissitudes,  or  trials  of  life,  could  change. 

Dr.  Ilaskins  practised  his  profession  awhile  in  Belleville.  lie 
discontinued  it  for  a  short  timo  ;  but  afterwards  adhered  to  it  while 
he  lived.    His  place  of  residence,  he  changed  three  times. 

While  practising  in  Belleville,  he  became  acquainted  with  the 
lady  whom  he  shortly  afterwards  married.  She  was  the  daugh- 
ter of  Mr.  Daniel  Everitt  of  Kingston  ;  and  was  in  Belleville,  or  a 
visit  to  her  relatives.  Not  long  after  their  marriajre,  having  resi- 
ded awhile  at  the  River  Trent ;  that  is  to  say,  at  the  village  so 
called,  at  the  mouth  of  that  River  ; — they  removed  to  a  new  part 
of  the  country,  the  Township  of  Loughborough  ;  north  of  Kings- 
ton. There  our  Author  enjoyed  a  season  of  domestic  felicity  ; 
which  proved  as  transient,  as  it  was  bright.  There  the  sun  of  his 
life  attained  its  meridian  glory  :  there  he  Ijuried  the  dearest  of  hi* 
learthly  hopes. 


I 


J>. 


MEMOIK. 


XT 


nind,  ac- 
very  de- 
Haskir.s. 
lie  saw 
activity, 
ise  in  tLo 

)g  swell  a 
d  in  tlio 

ind.    Ac- 

i  inscribed 
at  Belle - 

1  of  July , 

enced  be- 
idship  that 

ville.     lie 

to  it  wliilo 

es. 

d  with  the 

he  daiigh- 

cville,  or  a 

iving  resi- 

village  so 
I  new  part 

ofKings- 
;  felicity  ; 
!un  of  his 
rest  of  his 


His  young  wife  was  as  amiable  as  beautiful.  Never  was  there 
a  uum  who  more  highly  prized  such  a  treasure.  She  was  "  a 
crown  to  her  husband."  But  she  proved  to  be  of  the  number  of 
thosa  whom  the  Lord  hastens  to  jdace  among  his  own  peculiar 
jewels. 

She  died  at  the  birth  of  her  child  ;  the  daughter  to  whom  our 
Author  has  addressed  a  Poem,  which  we  have  arranged  among 
the  Occasional  Pieces. 

Dr.  Ilaskins  being  so  norvous  a  man.  of  such  deep,  tender,  and 
intense  feelings,  as  are  most  vividly  exhibited  in  his  works  ;  there 
was  no  possibility  of  his  remaining  near  the  grave,  which  had 
ewallowed  almost  his  earthly  all.  His  child  was  spared  to  him  : 
but  his  leoliiigs  were  those  of  one  bereft  of  every  joy,  and  corn- 
foil  of  life. 

I'rotn  Lo'.ighboro'igh,  he  romovod  to  Fn;nl\r(»rd:  a  village  situ- 
ated on  the  South  West  bank  of  the  River  Trent,  about  eight 
miles  from  its  mouth ;  and  on  both  sides  of  Cole  Crcok,  a  peren- 
nial stream  of  very  considerable  beauty,  which  there  mingles  ita 
waters  with  tlio  sounding  rapids  of  the  Trent.  Ilorc,  he  spent 
the  remainder  of  L..-.  ^ays.  Here,  in  the  abundant  leisure,  which 
remained  to  him,  from  the  duties  of  a  physician,  and  in  the  soli- 
tude, at  times,  but  too  irksome — which  he  had,  however,  chosen  in 
preference  to  cities  and  crowds,  with  only  a  very  few  choice  books 
to  read  :  his  energetic,  and  ever  restless  mind,  found  worthy  ex- 
ercise, io  tlic  composition  of  the  greater  part  of  these  Poems. 
His  Hymns  were  written  while  his  wife  was  living.  As  they  sat 
side  by  side  on  leisure  eveningrs,  he  used  to  copy  neatly  in  the  ro- 
man  text,  such  as  ho  had  finished.  Tliese  and  others  they  used 
to  sing  together. 

At  Frankford  his  friend  used  to  visit  him  ;  and  stay  a  week  or 


XVI 


MEMUIR. 


I 


P 


ten  days  at  a  time.  In  some  of  the  earlier  of  the  conversations, 
(long  to  be  remembered  by  the  snrvivor.)  which  they  there  enjoy- 
ed ;  it  was  suggested  to  our  Author,  to  employ  his  talents  in  wri- 
ting sacred  lyrics  to  certain  favourite  airs.  Hence  the  Songs  of 
Solitude.  In  singing  these,  the  Spanish  Guitar  was,  latterly,  an 
accompaniment. 

The  Cross  dates  next  after  the  Songs  of  Solitude.  Its  compo- 
sition occupied  most  of  his  leisure  hours  from  early  in  May  1841, 
until  the  commencement  of  October  in  the  same  year.  It  occu- 
pied many  a  solitary  hour ;.  and  though  at  times,  not  unproduc- 
tive of  weariness  and  sufFering — it  contributed  to  alleviate  a  sor- 
row, for  which  time  has,  in  general,  been  considered  the  only  cure. 

Our  space  is  almost  fully  occupied  ;  and  but  very  few  words 
can  be  added.  The  exposure  incident  to  the  practice  of  Medicine, 
and  the  intense  exercise  of  the  cerebral  functions  in  Poetic  com- 
position, are,  among  all  legitimate  accompaniments  of  certain  oc- 
cupations, the  two  that  have  been  found  to  operate  with  the  great- 
est effect,  against  longevity.  This  statement  is  made  on  the  au- 
thority of  tables,  carefully  constructed  by  men  of  science.  Dr. 
Haskins  was  not  exempt  from  the  influence  of  these  universal 
laws.  Though  he  was  the  most  strictly  muscular  man  the  wri- 
ter ever  saw — possessing  an  arm  whose  solid  knots,  when  in  full 
tension,  were  absolutely  beyond  a  comparison  with  the  best  rep- 
resentations of  pugilists  which  we  have  ever  happened  to  meet 
with— -yet  his  constitution  was  not  proof  against  the  malaria  of 
vegetable  decomposition.  Though  thp  valley  of  the  Trent  is  so 
very  rocky  :  yet  in  the  vicinity  of  Frankford  there  are  some  very 
extensive  swamps.  And  at  the  mouth  of  Cole  Cjeek,  a  mill-pond 
— while  it  afTords  the  means  of  accommodating  the  population  of 
an  extensive  region  (in  occasional  seasons  of  drought,)    with 


I 


T 


ME.MOIR. 


4 
xvri 


versations, 
here  enjoy- 
inls  in  wri- 
Songs  of 

atterly,  an 

Its  compo- 
May  1841, 
'.  It  occu- 
t  unproduc- 
iviate  a  sor- 
e  only  cure, 
few  words 
)f  Medicine, 
Poetic  corn- 
certain  oc- 
h  the  great- 
I  on  the  au- 
ience.  Dr. 
3  universal 
lan  the  wri- 
I'henin  full 
e  hest  rep- 
led  to  meet 
'  malaria  of 
Trent  is  so 
!  some  very 
a  mill-pond 
opulation  of 
ght,)    with 


the  very  aliment  most  necessary  of  all — yet  exerts  a  prejudi- 
cial influence  on  the  constitutions  of  Liliously  disposed  inhabit- 
ants of  the  vill.igc. 

Dr.  Ilaskins,  though  possessed  of  a  giant's  strength  in  his 
brawny  arm,  yet  had  by  no  moans  a  broad  chest.  Here  was  a 
weakness.  His  liver  became  seriously  injured  by  repeated  at- 
tacks of  ajino.  Under  the  combined  influence  of  accumulated 
causes,  his  constitution  sank.  IIo  complained  much  in  the  sum- 
mer of  18  i5  :  and  in  the  ensuing  autumn  was  laid  on  the  bed  of 
death.  The  spirit  in  which  he  met  the  grim  enemy,  might  be  im- 
agined from  the  tenor  of  many  passages  in  his  works.  Know- 
ing his  own  heart,  he  looked  fur  salvation  only  in  the  atoning  sac- 
rilice  of  Christ.  Deej)ly  contrite — humbled  before  the  Eternal 
Judge,  in  wliose  presence  he  was  so  soon  to  appear — he  spent  his 
las*,  days  in  prayer.  Ills  little  daughter  was  well  provided  for. 
She  inherits  property  from  her  mother :  and  has  kind  friends  in 
her  maternal  rol.itives.  lie  had  no  cause  for  an.\icty  on  her  ac- 
count. He  gave  all  his  ihojghts  to  spiritual  things :  and  in  the 
c.ilm  hope  of  one  Vvhose  strcngtii  is  the  Eternal  Rock,  his  spirit 
(lc>pan?J  from  this  world  of  sullering,  to  be  with  God  andChr.'s'. 


The  kindness  and  liberality  with  whicli  the  Editor  has  been 
supported  in  a  dilncult  undertaking,  demand  his  warmest  thanks. 
The  unirorin,  and  unsurpassed  politeness,  with  which  his  so- 
licitations liave  been  listened  to,  and  the  readiness  with  which  a 
large  subscription  list  was  aflbrded -have  forever  endeared  to 
his  remembrance  the  Colleges  and  cities  of  Xcw  York  and  New 
England. 


9.* 


.-W 


TO 

THE  MEMORY 

OP 

DR.  HASKINS. 


BY  MKS.  MOODIE. 


Neglected  son  of  Genius  !  thou  hast  passed — ' 

In  broken-hearted  loneliness — away  : 
And  one  who  prized  tliy  talents,  fain  would  cast 

The  cypross-wreath  above  thy  niould'ring  clay. 

Ah  !  could  she  yet  thy  spirit's  flight  delay  ; 
Till  the  cold  world,  relenting  from  its  scorn, 

Tiie  fadeless  laurel  round  thy  brow's  should  bind ; 

Crowning  the  innate  majesty  of  mind. 
By  crushing  poverty  and  sorrow  torn. 
Peace  to  thy  nameless  ashes  !  till  revive 

Bright  memories  of  tliee,  in  deathless  song. 
True  to  the  dead — Time  shall  relenting  give 

The  meed  of  praise  deserved,  delayed  too  long : 
And,  in  immortal  verse,  the  Bard  again  shall  live. 


mmm 


THE 


^poetical    iUorks 


OF 


JAfflESHASKINSjAB.  ffl.B. 


TRIN.    COLL.    DUBLIN. 


^. 


i 


* 


4 


'1  -»* 


.■fc 


mmmmmm 


J 


•w 


THE  C 
^    Poem, 

IN  THREE  BOOKS : 

BY 

.JAMES  IIASKTNS,   A.  B.  M.  B, 
Trix.  Coll.  Dublin. 


On  perusal  of  the  foUowiiig  Ad<Iirg!<,  it  will  he  understood,  of 
tourse,  that  the  Author  naturally  hoped  to  he  ahle — at  some  jtcriod 
of  his  life — to  cjfvct  the  jntblicat.io7i  of  his  Poems.  It  is  distiiu-t- 
ly  shown,  viorcoxcr,  by  his  own  worth,  — {irhich,  hut  f/r  the  utter 
want  of  sjificr,  would  hare  been  quoledat  h/iglh, in  the  course  (f  the 
jyrco'diiiff  sketch  ;)  that  he  looked  forward  am  to  a  scamd  edition  : 
in  jyreparlng  which,  (he  declares,)  he  would  gladly  until  himself 
of  the  aid  of  candid  criticism. 

I[i:nce  his  request  to  he  rcmcmhrred  in  the  Reader's  oriums. 

Si7ice  lie  has,  in  this  Addrecs,  thus  further  illvstrafrd  his  own 
character  ami  sentiments ;  the  presenting  it  in  its  proper  jdace — 
with  this  explanation — seems  essential  tu  the  integrity  of  his  Works. 


TO  THE  READER. 


'crstood,  of 
nnc  f>criod 
is  distinct- 
r  the  vttcr 
lumcof  the 
1(1  edition  : 
'U  kimsi'lf 

iftms. 
d  his  ou  i% 
icr  jilace — 
lis  Wo7-ks. 


RnADER  !  if  llioii  in  tliis  should  *t  find 
Alight  to  profit,  plrasc,  thy  mind- 
Aught  to  beguile  t'  y  lonely  hour, 
Or  wake  within  devotion's  pow'r — 
Aught  to  exalt  thy  soul  \o  Ilim, 
Uefore  whose  eye,stars— suns— are  dim ; 
Ci(X>d  wishes  let  the  poet  claim, 
Whose  guerdon  is  no  earthly  fame  : 
Still  let  a  pray'r  before  the  Throne, 
For  him,  be  mingled  witli  thine  own. 

When  winter,  with  his  piercing  wind, 
Hail,  snow,  and  tempest  all  combined, 
Rei'nis  o'er  the  world  in  solemn  state. 
And  chills  the  heart,  no  more  elate  ; 
In  siimmer's  bloom— in  autumn's  pride — 
When  smiles  the  spring  with  blushes  dyed  ; 
At  dawn  of  morn — at  golden  noon — 
^t  eve — when  midnight  veils  the  moon ; 
When  happiness  thy  lot  hath  crowned, 
Or  sad  affliction  darkens  round ; 
Still  let  thy  soul  aloft  ascend, 
To  Him,  the  contrite  sinner's  friend  ; 
Still  be  thy  heart  to  Jesus  giv'n  ; 
Who  died,  that  thou  mightst  live  in  heav'n. 


} 


■c 


■m 


I  MP 


THE  CROSS. 


BOOK 


Analysis.— Stanzas  1—5,  The  Poet  invokes  tlie  true  source  of  Inspiration, 
{lis  subject,  the  plan  of  Rndcmption.  7—10,  Vastness  of  tlie  Subject.  Jlystery 
of  Divine  Love.  U,  IQ,  Tlie  Poetic  impulse  and  ordour  irrepresoible  .  13,  Tbc 
Author's  purpose.  14,  State  of  the  world  during  Satan's  reign  ;  or  previous  to 
the  Advent  of  the  Messiali.  19 — 21,  God  not  withouL  witness  duiing  that  period  : 
Ilis  Existence,  Goodness,  find  Justice,  being  manifested  in  His  works  of  Creation 
and  Providence.  24,  Traditional  knowledge  existed  in  all  nations.  20—30,  Ke;i- 
son,  and  a  certain  innate  impression,  taught  mankind  the  Existence  of  a  supe 
rior  Power  ;  the  Immortality  of  the  Soul;  ana  a  future  state  of  Retribution. 
Jl— 35,  Dreadful  nature  of  Sin.  30,  Universal  Tradition  of  Sacrificial  Atone- 
mput.  37,  Revelation  to  a  chosen  nation.  3a^-'*0,  Worders  of  the  Law.  41, 
42,  Hlossedness  of  Israel.  42 — 44,  'I'heir  Re'oeiUon  and  Ruin.  45,  God  ibresee  ■ 
ing  the  fall  of  Man,  had  fror.i  eternity  devist  1  the  plan  of  Uedemption. 

40- .'50,  Tlie  Messiah's  Kingdom  predicted  »f  old.  54,  55,  Th  e  time  drawini; 
ne  ar ;  50— .'58,  Satan  summons  his  hosts  ;  and  in  an  nddres^  (02)  in  wliich  he 
shows  the  nature  of  the  approaching  Crisis,  incites  them  to  a  final  struggle.  liO. 
They  8v.'ear  to  war  with  ImmanucI  forever, 

07-71,  A  Voice  la  heard  through  Hell  ;  showing  f)ie  impotence  of  all  cna- 
lures  as  compared  with  God. 


I. 

O  Tiiou  Eternal  One  !  at  whose  cornmnnd. 

From  chaos  rose  Creation— at  who.se  will, 
Yonder  proud  dome,  magnificent,  o'er.spanned 

Earth  newly  born,  where  darkness  lingered  still ; 

Whose  fullness,  then,  infinite  space  did  fill 
With  suns  and  spheres  of  glory — worlds  of  light, 

All  beautiful  and  blessed — where  nought  was  ill. 
To  cast  o'er  them  one  shade  of  transient  night ; 
But  all  was  like  Thyself,  glorious,  and  good,  and  bright : 


26 


THE   CROSS. 


I 


II. 

Thou,  at  whose  word  the  firmament,  earth,  ocean. 

Took  their  appointed  place  by  firm  decree  ; 
When  from  th'  archangels  thrilled  supreme  devotion. 

And  all  the  host  of  heav'n  sang  praise  to  Thee ! 

Creator,  Ruler,  of  all  worlds  that  be  ! 
Oh  I  bear  my  spirit  high  o'er  mortal  things — 

E'en  to  that  realm,  where,  throned  in  majesty, 
Thy  greatness  dwells — alofl  on  seraph's  wings, 
Uphold  her  by  Thy  power ;  while  she,  advent'rous,  singh. 

III. 

Oh  !  for  a  wing  above  the  condor's  flight, 

To  waft  my  soul  tow'rd  Heav'n  ;  e'en  where  the  straiii 
Of  songs  angelic  echoes  from  the  height, 

And  hands  of  seraphim  their  harps  contain  : 

Then  would  I  sing.    Yet,  haply,  not  in  vain, 
My  feeble  voice  with  them  Tliy  praise  may  share. 

Oh  !  how  from  hymns  of  praise  can  man  refrain  ; 
When  he  beholds  Thy  works,  supremely  fair : 
But  chief.  The  Cross — Thy  Son  beloved  expiring  there  i 

IV. 

Source  of  all  spirit  I    Maker  of  all  mind  ! 

Omnipotence !  be  Thou  my  strength  and  stay  : 
Far  from  the  wild'ring  world,  in  clouds  enshrined, 

Oh !  point  me  out  the  sure,  unerring  way  ; 

That  leads  to  lands  where  smiles  immortal  day. 
Sole  Good  !  Sole  Great !  Oh  !  teach  me  to  behold 

The  sun  of  Truth,  unblindedby  his  ray : 
Nor  let  Thy  love  within  this  heart  wax  cold ; 
While  I,  in  vent'rous  verse.  Redemption's  plan  unfold. 


J 


i-'^v 


INVOCATION. 


97 


igh. 


ain 


re  i 


V. 

No  fabled  muse— no  fond  Parnassian  dream- 
Invoke  I  now,  a  lofty  strain  t'  inspire. 

Thou  only,  as  befits  my  sacred  theme, 
Can'st  kindle  in  this  soul  unearthly  fire : 
And  wake  to  harmony  my  untuned  lyre. 

Tliee  I  invoke.    My  strength  were  vainly  spent. 
Without  Thine  aid.    Shall  man,  unhelped,  aspire 

To  sing  Redemption  ?    If  that  aid  be  lent— 

Weak°of  myself,  and  frail,  I  shun  not  this  high  argument. 

VI. 

Saints  of  the  earth  !  in  ardent,  humble  pray'r, 

Lift  your  united  voice  to  Him  above; 
And  supplicate  that  I  His  grace  may  share, 

To  make  my  darkness  light.    Mysterious  Dove  ! 

Thy  blest  illumination  let  me  prove. 
Spirit  of  truth  and  holiness !  'tis  Thine, 

To  vivify,  t'  enlighten,  to  remove 
All  earthly  dross.    Oh !  make  my  soul  Thy  shrine. 
Kindle,  and  hallow  all  within,  with  love  divine. 

VII. 

Wonder  of  wonders '.    God,  who  reigns  on  high, 

Lord  of  the  Universe— Th'  Almighty  One— 
Kasential  Life— Soul  of  Eternity- 
Came  down  to  dwell  on  earth.    The  peerless  Sun- 
Around,  in  whom,  stars,  worlds,  their  courses  run- 
Shrouded  His  glory  in  a  form  of  clay  ; 

Declined  in  death,  for  man  by  guilt  undone. 
Hence  !  thoughts  profane.    Ideal  dreams,  away  ! 
IS be  this  alone  mv  thoucht — bv  nieht, 


Be 


my  thought — I 


d. 


'2S 


THE   CR0S9, 


VIII 

(mmorlal  Man  I  liow  fearful  was  *he  debt, 

VV'hich  a  Redeemer's  blood  alone  could  pay  ' 
This  mystery  of  marvel  i  angels  yet, 

Awe-struck,  behold,  and  tremblingly  survey  : 

How  vast,  no  finite  mind  imagine  may. 
Higher  than  highest  heav'n — what  canst  thou  do? 

Deeper  than  earth's  foundations — firm  for  aye — 
Wider  than  endless  space :  could'st  thou  pursue, 
E'en  in  eternal  thought,  the  theme,  'twere  ever  new 

H.  as  the  thunder  on  its  fi'ry  wing, 
My  voice  to  distant  lands  could  apeak  afar ; 

H  solemn  tone,  vibrating  from  the  string 
Of  my  rude  harp — beyond  the  flight  of  star, 
Could  reach  the  realms  where  the  unfallen  are  : 

Myriads  of  worlds  of  beauty — where  the  blight 
Of  sin  ne'er  came,  their  loveliness  to  mar  ; 

I  would  address  their  countless  legions  bright — 

•Rehold — behold  tlie  Cross  !  that  all  transcending  sigiit '.' 

X. 

I(,  as  a  river  rushing  to  the  shore 

Of  the  unbounded  Ocean — soon  to  lose, 
fn  that  dread  deep,  its  waters,  heard  no  more — 

E'en  to  remotest  time  I  could  diffuse 

INIv  soul,  in  heralding  the  sacred  news 
Of  a  Redeemer's  blood,  shed  to  retrieve 

Man  from  eternal  death ;  unworthy  muse  ! 
Then  might'st  thou  sing.    But  iww — canst  thou  not  weave 
One  warning  strain,  and  cry — 'O  Man  !  relent—believe  V 


I 


THB   author'^  purpose. 


a» 


XL 

Comes  there  upon  the  calmness  of  my  soul 

A  nameless  pow'r  — as  'neath  the  moonbeams  bright, 
The  torrent  from  the  mountain ;  when  the  roll 
Of  its  dark  waters,  dashing  from  the  height, 
Reverberates  in  echoes  thro'  the  night  — 
And  thoughts  are  rushing  by  me  :  and  the  moon — 

All  gentle  in  hersilv'ry  tissue  dight —  • 

Can  lull  the  rolling  torrent's  wave  as  soon, 
As  I  can  stem  those  thoughts,  not  now  mere  fancy's  boon. 

XII. 
And,  were  I  silent,  it  might  be  required, 

Ai  the  great  day,  wJien  all  their  doom  shall  know— 
Wlien  souls  that  high  to  heav'nly  things  aspired, 
Aloft  shall  wend  ;  and  those  that  grovelled  low, 
In  base  pursuit,  plunge  in  th'  abyss  of  woe  :~ 
When  talents  profitless  must  be  restored  -, 

And  all  shall  reap  as  they  on  earth  did  sow. 
Oh !  let  me  not  presume— yet,  righteous  Lord  ! 
My  portion  dtie  of  toil,  let  me,  tho'  weak,  afford. 

XIIL 
Humbly,  my  God,  to  Thee  I  lift  my  heart. 

Seeking  Thy  succour ;  that  no  evil  thought, 
In  this  my  hallowed  purpose,  may  have  part— 

Or  vanity  steal  in,  and  make  all  naught. 

If  that  my  spirit  hath  a  portion  caught 
Of  heav'nly  ardour— be  that  ardour  spent 

In  heralding  the  great  redemption,  bought 
By  Jesu's  blood :— be  this  my  sole  intent. 
To  keep  all  pure  within,  oh  !  be  Thy  influence  lent. 

3* 


I  ilf 


:jo 


THE    CROS«». 


XIV. 


Two  thousand  years  twice  told,  this  eartli  had  lain 

To  sorrow,  sin,  and  misery  a  prey  ; 
And  ruined  Man,  the  heir  of  toil  and  pain, 

Wore  out  in  wretchedness  his  little  day  : 

Nor  hojie  diffused  upon  his  lot  one  ray. 
And  when  he  died— the  darkness  and  the  gloom, 

And  hea^ness  u|)on  his  soul  that  lay, 
Were  but  the  heralds  of  an  awful  doom, 
In  the  far  land  that  lies  beyond  the  shad' wy  tomb. 

XV. 

Horn  as  for  woe — he  vainly  lived  and  died  ; 

Fearful,  unknowing  of  h':^  future  fate  : 
Reason,  by  sin  obscured,  his  feeble  guide — 

His  life  was  drear.     Death  tino'  hi.s  gloomy  gale 

Grinned  ghastly,  at  his  near  approach  elate  ; 
And  pois'd  his  jav'lin,  tipped  with  flames  of  hell  : 

And,  at  his  furious  frown  of  vengeful  hate, 
Blackness  of  darkness  on  the  spirit  fell ; 
Anguish  and  mighty  woe,  and  fears  unutt'rable. 

XVI. 

Harth  was  no  paradise,  as  once  of  old, 

When  from  her  Maker's  hand  licr  beauty  rose  : 
Brief  was  the  bloom  her  morning  did  unfold ; 

And  transient  did  her  cheek  its  blusli  disclose. 

In  youth,  her  brow  became  all  stern  with  woes. 
Vet  oft  did  she  look  glad  :  but  never  smiled, 

As  she  was  wont  ere  sorrow  shed  its  snow.s. 
Whdn  guilty  Man  from  Eden  was  exiled ; 
Nature  and  she,  erst  lovely,  grew  all  dark  and  wild. 


Satan's  REIGN. 


31 


m 


XVII. 
War,  bloodshed,  rapine-*n  unnumbered  host 

Of  deadly  plagues— her  early  annals  stained ;: 
And  Lucifer,  (dread  lord  I)  could  proudly  boast, 
Not  in  but  lurid  hell  he  sov'reign  reigned  : 
Dominion  over  Earth  he  not  disdained. 
Wide  o'er  th^^  world,  his  sable  banner  waving, 

Its  nughty  shadow  cast :  till  nought  remained 
UncoloJred  by  its  hues.    Th'  Eternal  braving, 
Victoriously  he  sped,  all  human  hearts  enslaving. 

XVIII. 

Prince  of  ih'  aerial  powers !  I  backward  trace 

The  tide  of  evil  ;  that  tremendous  sea, 
Wliose  overwhelming  waves  would  fain  efface 

( iood  from  our  world.     Satan  !  alone  from  thee— 

As  Egypt's  flood,  when,  like  eternity. 
Us  stream  rolls  on— those  billows  bursting  sweep. 

Fountain  of  ill !  thy  springs  perennial  be. 
Nought  can  control  their  spreading  waters  deep  : 
Save  He,  whose  pow'r  alone,  can  souls  in  safety  keep. 

XIX. 

Viul  yot— tho'  evil,  from  those  venomed  springs, 

Swept  as  a  moral  pestilence  the  world  ; 
Tiio'  each  departing  virtue  spread  its  wings, 

And  Satan  waved  his  banner-cloud  unfurled, 

And  Sin  its  myriads  to  perdition  hurled  :  ■ 

Jehovah  !  Lord  of  lords,  and  King  of  kings  ! 

While  mutability  its  circle  whirled, 
Till  earth,  and  man,  seemed  moved  by  chance's  strings ; 
Thy  hand,  above,  ruled; all,. and  governed,  mortal  things. 


33 


THE  CROSS. 


XX. 

The  blight  of  sin — the  dismal,  barren  earth  ; 

The  double  curse  on  Man — death,  toilful  pain ; 
Woman,  condemned  to  anguish,  in  the  birth 

Of  beings  doomed  to  woe ;  the  first  born  Cain, 

Smirched  with  his  brother's  blood  by  muider  slain  y 
The  agony,  the  torture,  and  the  woe, 

Superlative  of  horrors  shed  like  rain 
On  guilty  man — hell's  black  abyss  below — 
Thy  holiness,  and  pow'r,  justice,  anr'  truth,  did  show. 

XXI. 

Not  without  witness  was  Thy  mercy  too, 

Tho'  Earth  a  dreary  wilderness  became. 
Thou  water'dst  her,  each  night  and  morn,  with  dew ; 

And  warm'dst  with  genial  glow  her  inward  frame. 

Thy  gen'ral  care  did  all  Thy  creatures  claim, 
Filling  their  hearts  with  food.    And  oft — tho'  joy 

Was  not  a  flow'r  of  mortal  growth,  (its  name 
Still  misapplied) — did  sunny  gladness  buoy 
Many  a  human  heart,  above  life's  sad  annoy. 

xxir. 

Tho'  all  were  evil;  from th' infected  mas.s 
Of  vileness  unredeemed,  stood  forth  a  few 

Of  high  and  elevated  soul.    Alas ! 
Tiho'— eminent  above  the  common  crew — 
Superior,  they  did  nobler  things  pursue, 

Not  grovelling  in  sense,  in  vice  debased ; 
Seekers  of  wisdom — they  their  God  ne'er  knew  ! 

Knew  not  the  God,  whose  glorious  image  traced 

Upon  the  soul,  from  thence  not  wholly  was  effaced^ 


! : 


LIGHT  OF  TRADITION. 


33 


xxiir, 

Wisdom  !  it  was  a  glorious  guest,  much  sought. 

Thoso  noble  few  oft  deemed  her  form  their  prize  ;. 
And  many  grasj^ed  a  cloud,  and  found  it  nought 

But  empty  vapour :  as  the  sleeper  tries — 

When,  in  the  beauty  of  a  dream,  arise 
<  'iiarms  of  a  form,  than  mortal  one  more  fair— 

T'  tMubracc  its  loveliness,  (with  wishful  eyes, 
And  a  deep-heaving  heart.)  and  finds  but  air : 
Thus  Wisdom  lured  along;  and  few  her  smiles  did  share- 

XXIV. 

Some  feeble  rays  of  ancient  lore,  from  heav'n, 

Slied,  in  each  nation,  more  or  less  of  light  - 
And  to  each  son  of  man,  some  grace  was  giv'n ; 

Whid),  well  improved,  had  made  his  darkness  bright. 

And  manifest — amid  that  inward  night — 
(iod's  sjjirit  still  diflused  a  living  ray  : 

And  hence  wore  human  hearts  not  evil  quite . 
Some  good,  some  worth,  men's  actions  did  display — 
Kind  deeds  were  done ;  and  oft  did  gen'rous  feelings  sway. 

XXV. 

J II  ?>ooth,  Man  was  a  strange  and  motley  thing  ; 

All  impotent,  yet  with  vast  pow'rs  endued. 
With  spirit  strong  to  soar  on  lofty  wing, 

Erect— sublime  of  brow — the  heavens  he  viewed  ; 

And  mid  the  stars  his  soul  its  path  pursued : 
Tlien — wallowed  in  the  mire  !  and  grov'lling  base — 

E'en  in  the  dust,  beneath  his  footsteps  strewed — 
lie  .seemed  a  being  of  a  diff 'rent  race 
From  him,  whose  mind  grasped  suns,  and  worlds  in  its  embrace. 


94 


THE  CROSS. 


XXVI. 

Tho'  "desperately  wicked,"  Scripture  says, 

The  heart,  and  its  imaginations  ill; 
Tho'  to  depraved  inventions,  man  his  ways 

Perverted ;  curved,  and  warped  to  wrong  his  will : 

A  monitor  within  was  warning  still. 
Waked  by  the  Spirit  of  God.    Its  accents  spake 

Around — with  deep,  reverberating  thrill — 
Like  echoes  of  the  thunder ;  when  awake 
Its  loud-toned  peals,  that  bid  the  rocks  and  mountains  quake. 

XXVII. 

There  was  an  innate  stamp  on  ev'ry  mind— 

A  strong,  instinctive,  energy  of  sense : 
That  still,  with  reason's  arguings  combined. 

Spake  of  a  God.    Despite  the  impotence. 

Wrought  in  the  soul,  by  man's  so  dire  offence  ; 
Convinced  of  God — One  mighty  Being,  vast. 

Supreme  o'er  all — Original,  from  whence 
Creation  rose ;  Man  stood  and  quaked  aghast : 
Por  Conscience  spake  of  crimes,  loud  as  the  lightning  blast. 

XXVIII. 

In  his  calm  hours,  he  could  not  but  believe 

This  truth — incontrovertible  by  all 
The  sophistries  which  Passion's  pow'r  doth  weave. 

Aloud,  within,  that  voice  to  him  did  call, 

To  stay  his  steps — nor  tempt  a  farther  fall ; 
And  still,  of  former  crimes,  the  bitter  pang 

His  spirit  stung ;  and  terror  did  appal. 
And  of  his  earthly  joys  the  requiem  rang : 
Despairingly  he  drooped ;  tho'  flow'rs  around  him  sprang. 


I 


^ 


THE   STING    OF   CONSCIENCE. 


35 


:iuake. 


blast. 


3i 


'g- 


XXIX. 

For  flow'rs  of  earthly  joy  no  pleasure  bring, 

When  the  sad  heart  is  deep  remorse's  prey. 
When  Conscience  plies  its  scourge,  and  inward  sting, 

The  skies  look  black  at  noon  of  cheerful  day  ; 

And  nature's  realms  a  fun'ral  frown  display. 
VVliercer  we  turn — the  pit,  where  serpents  hiss, 

Profoundly  yawns,  and  threatens  black  dismay : 
Clouds  darken  all  the  heav'n  of  transient  bliss — 
Death  with  white,  fleshless  finger,  points  to  the  abyss. 

XXX. 

Tho'  nature's  eye  be  glad,  and  wild  birds  sing 
Amid  the  pleasant  groves ;  whose  early  leaves, 

Luxuriant,  fold  the  budsthat,  blossoming, 
Breathe  odours  on  the  air — tho'  summer  weaves 
Its  flow'ry  chaplet ;  yet  the  heart  that  grieves, 

With  the  dark  woe  by  sin  and  passicm  wrought, 
No  pleasure  from  her  varied  scenes  receives  : 

But,  from  the  sullen  cave  of  fearful  thought, 

Despairing,  looks  around,  and  deems  that  all  is  natiglit. 

XXXI. 

O  Sin !  thou  deadly  source  of  all  our  woe  ! 

Thou  traitress,  still  with  blood  of  souls  besprent ! 
Destroyer  of  all  life  !  determined  foe 

Of  happiness — of  love — each  feeling  sent 

From  heav'n,  t'  enkindle  earth's  gross  element 
With  joy  celestial !  wherefore  did'st  thou  haste. 

On  thy  black  wing  of  ominous  portent — 
Like  vulture  to  the  carnage — to  lay  waste 
The  loveliness  that,  once,  man's  guileless  spirit  wraced  ? 


j>t^ 


^M^. 


3C 


THE   CROSS. 


XXXII. 

How  deep,  liow  dire,  the  desolation  wrought 

Around — within — by  that  unsparing  hand  ! 
How  did  the  hcav'ns  grow  dim ;  and  come  to  nought, 

The  bounteous  scheme,  tliat  Love  Divine  had  planned  ! 

And  universal  guilt,  at  thy  command. 
Burst  as  a  deluge  round,  with  billows  high  : 

Till  Peace  and  Virtue  found  not  where  to  sta*  ' — 
But  waved  their  wings ;  and  sought,  beyond  the  s. 
A  calmer  world :  where  Love's  elysian  flow'rs  no'er  dit 

XXXIII. 

What  lure  did'st  bring — what  splendid  recompense — 

What  treasures  infinite,  the  soul  to  gain  ? 
What  golden  wonders — what  rich  stores  immeiiso — 

What  spell  of  matchless  pow'r,  t'  illude  the  braL.  ? 

Wliat  forms  of  paradise — a  peerless  train  ? 
Mere  emptiness  !  the  shadow  of  a  dream, 

That  mocks  the  sleeper  in  his  visions  vain. 
Away !  thine  eyes  deceitful  lustre  beam  ; 
Kence  !  painted  skeleton,  whose"smiles  with  horror  teem. 

XXXIV. 

What  was  the  witchery,  that  thus  could  steal 

To  thy  embrace,  the  soul,  all  heav'nly  pure  ; 
That,  Wind  to  souse  of  its  eternal  weal, 

It  rushed  Almighty  vengeance  to  endure  ? 

What  was  the  recompense,  the  wondrous  lure  ? 
No  answer  yet !  I  turn  me  to  the  grave — 

Dark  home  !  man's  dreary  destination  sure. 
Let  me  consult  yon  gloomy  chamel-cave ; 
Dread  pit.    Of  thee — yon  scull — do  I  an  answer  crave. 


0 


j^ 


ATOMEMEMT.     REVELATION. 


3^ 


3 


XXXV. 

Thou  speake»t  well,  O  grave  !  unburied  scull. 

Sternly  thy  featurea  on  the  living  lour ! 
Yet  do  those  eyes,  of  mystic  meaning  fufl. 

Speak  to  the  startled  soul— beyond  the  pow'r 

Of  eloquence,  in  its  impassioned  hour, 
Hurling  its  thunders.    Thy  mute  mouth  doth  tell, 

Hc'v  small  of  folly's  treasures  is  the  dow'r : 
Aroukid  its  accents  echo  like  a  knell. 
Tolling  its  dreary  dirge  o'er  all  that  earth  love<l  well, 

XXXVL 

Some  sacrificial  oflTring,  to  atone 

For  sinful  deed — some  thing  of  worth  resigned : 
Blood  spilt — flesh  burned — upon  the  altar-stone : 

'Twas  not  in  these  to  renovate  the  mind ; 

The  balm  of  peace  not  thus  could  spirits  find. 
Tho'  lore  traditional  all  nations  taught. 

Alone  could  blood  the  shackled  soul  unbind  : 
With  errors  wild  their  creeds  were  overfraught : 
Alas !  they  knew  not  Him,  whose  blood  Redemption  bought. 

XXXVII.  • 

One  chosen  nation,  God's  especial  love 

Blessed  with  a  revelation  of  His  will  *, 
By  precepts  pure  of  wisdom  from  above, 

Taught  to  adopt  the  good,  reject  the  ill: 

Just,  holy,  wise — beneficently  still 
Pointing  their  path — He  gave  His  sacred  Law, 

Framed  by  Omnipotence  with  perfect  skill. 
Not  angel's  eye  could  there  discern  a  flaw : 
The  seraphim  its  code,  with  speechless  wonder,  saw. 


.JD^ 


38 


THE   CROSS. 


XXXVIII. 

Blessings,  and  curses,  did  that  law  ordain  : 
To  the  obedient  an  assured  reward  ; 

Deep  woe  denounced,  the  wicked  to  restrain 
From  guilty  ways,  that  make  the  heart  most  hard. 
By  its  restriction,  was  no  joy  debarred 

From  man  ;  save  those  that  left  a  sting  behind- 
False  joys,  that  solid  happiness  still  marred 

With  mildew  blight :  e'en  as  the  Samiel  wind  ; 

Which  passed,  the  traveller  can  nought  of  verdure  find. 

XXXIX. 

J  list,  iioiy,  good,  the  precepts  of  His  Word 
Made  wise  the  simple  ;  light  unto  the  feet, 

That  stumbled  in  the  darkness,  did  afford. 
To  heav'u-aspiring  sou1»^,  its  taste,  more  sweet 
Than  honey  comb,  with  pleasure  was  replete  ; 

Sweeter  than  golden  honey  from  the  hive  : 
To  the  despairing  soul  a  cordial  meet — 

A  rich  repast,  the  spirit  to  revive — 

\  balm  of  sov'reign  pow'r  to  make  the  dead  alive. 

XL. 

Prorigured  in  its  rites,  th'  adorer  viewed 

The  mystery  of  all-redeeming  pow'r. 
As  on  the  altar-stone,  each  day  imbued 

With  blood  of  lambs,  was  shed  the  crimson  showT 

From  victims  innocent ;  th'  approaching  hour 
Of  earth's  deliv'rance  on  their  vision  rose — 

The  Snn  of  Righteousness,  (tho'  clouds  did  lour 
Around  Him.)  seemed  His  dawning  to  disclose  : 
The  Lamb  of  God  wtvs  slain,  triumphant  then  o'er  foes. 


ISRAEL,  god's   vineyard. 


39 


33. 


XLI. 

Jehovah,  still,  this  people  of  his  choice, 

in  all  their  wand'rings,  did  sustain  and  guide  •• 
And,  (us  the  Shepherd  calls  his  sheep  by  voice. 

And  they  obey  him,)  by  the  gentle  tide 

(){  waters,  that  without  a  murmur  glide- 
Thro*  meadows  green,  He  led  thcni  day  by  day  : 

Willi  gladness,  and  with  food,  their  hearts  supplied. 
Oh  1  blessed  beyond  all  earthly  creaturt^^  they  1 
Yet  widely  did  this  flock  from  the  Good  Shepherd  stray. 

XLII. 

A  vineyard,  planted  on  a  fruitful  hill. 

Was  Israel.     His  boughs  extended  wide. 
In  sunuaer's  golden  gleam  exulting  still  : 

His  branches  bent,  beneath  the  purple  pride 

Of  grapes,  that  seemed  with  morning'?,  blushes  dyed. 
The  stranger  o'er  the  land,  delighted,  sent 

His  ling'ring  gaze;  and  long  the  prospect  eyed. 
Again  he  passed:— a  storm  its  bloom  hai!  rent ; 
Blossoms,  and  fmit,  and  leaves,  in  dust  were  mouid'ring  blent. 

XLIIl. 

Vineyard  of  God !  how  did  thy  grapes  become 

As  barren  cluster-   ■"  th'  uncultured  vine  ! 
Ere  winter's  icy  horrors  did  benumb 

Tlie  sap  ascending,  and  their  tendrils  fine ; 

How  lov^y  was  each  tree,  each  branch  of  thine, 
In  nature's  early  freshness  !  Heav'n  on  high, 

Show'r'd  o'er  thy  genial  bosom  dews  divine. 
Yet,  transiently  as  dreams,  that  hour  went  by : 
JIow  did  the  gold  grow  dim — mere  dross  its  place  supply  ! 


AO 


THE  CROSS 


XLIV. 

Jeshurun's  God  I  depictured  here  we  see 
A  likeness  of  ourselves — ^the  human  heart  ! 

Our  souls  how  base,  how  impotent  they  be ; 
Still  prone  from  Thee,  and  goodness,  to  depart  : 
How  kind,  how  true,  how  merciful  Thou  art, 

To  wretches  wand'ring  from  the  blissful  way — 
Like  broken  bow,  still  wont  aside  to  start. 

Oh !  guide  my  footsteps,  lest  I  farther  straj- ; 

And  shed  upon  my  soul  one  beam  of  heav'nly  day. 

XLV. 

ivuown  unto  God  are  all  things :  present,  past, 

And  future.  His  all  comprehending  eye 
Views  at  a  glance.    Time's  moments  flee  full  fast. 

From  all  created  things.    For  Him  on  high — 

There  is  no  time ;  all  is  Eternity : 
No  past,  no  future.    He  devised  the  plan 

Of  earth's  Redemption  :  long  before  the  Tree 
Of  Knowledge  gave  its  fruit  to  guilty  man ; 
Before  His  Seven  days'  work  of  wonder  He  began 

XLVL 

Quaffing  the  stream  of  inspiration  deep, 
Prophets  foretold  of  far,  yet  hasting,  hours  ; 

When  Earth,  with  bosom  torn,  should  cease  to  weep — 
Her  brow  again  be  decked  with  blooming  flow'rs — 
The  wilderness  rejoice  with  heav'nly  show'rs, 

And  blossom  like  the  rose :  a  dista  iit  time, 
When  victory  should  smile  on  Salem's  tow'rs ; 

And  Glory's  King  arrive,  in  pomp  sublime ; 

And  Jewry's  laud  become  as  Keav'n's  ethereal  clime :. 


PROPHECIES. 


41 


XLVII. 

When  Zion-s  daughter,  prostrate  in  her  grief, 
Mourning  amid  the  tombs  in  sable  woe, 

(Disconsolate  like  Rachel,  while  relief 
.S^ea,  '  ikraway,)  a  happy  change  should  know, 
A  '    Hi  «> ..  moment  all  her  grief  forego ; 

Music,  r)f  mourning,  her  sad  spirit  steep- 
Beauty,  for  ashes,  on  her  cheek  should  glow— 

For  heaviness, -the  heart's  exulting  leap, 

Where  gladness  and  delight  their  joyous  concert,  keep : 

XLVIII. 

Joy,  as  a  precious  balm,  should  widely  pour 
Its  streams  o'er  all  the  land  ;  and  hearts  be  healed, 

Whose  wounds  were  deemed  incurable :  no  more 
The  trumpet  sun''  no'i  to  the  battle-field — 
War's  thunder  .;  ast  ro  more  its  echoes  yield ; 

Nor  howling  oi  he  v-mpesi  shake  the  shore, 
Where  all  ahvnlo    -A  a  mrt.    Thus  Heav'n  revealed 

Health  for  the  heart,  a  oaive  for  ev'ry  sore ; 

Of  blessings  from  above,  a  rich,  a  boundless  store. 

XLIX. 

The  lion  and  the  lamb,  in  flow'ry  mead. 
Should  play  together  ;  the  wolf,  gentle-eyed, 

Fondle  the  l.''^ :  Ae  fiock  securely  feed, 
Amid  the  fov)->  j-lierd.  nor  ill  betide : 
The  serpent — in  his  scaly,  speckled  pride. 

Twining  voluminous  his  spiry  fold — 

Sportive,  and  harmless,  by  the  infant  glide . 

Thus,  in  pvoplietic  strain,  the  seers  of  old 

Messiah's  welcome  reign,  as  Prince  of  Peace,  foretold. 

4* 


12 


THE   CROSS- 


i; 


L. 

()  blisaful  sight !  the  vulture  and  the  dove 

111  kindly  union  meeting-    \. cot  release 
From  scenes  ungentle  !  happir  id  love 

Gliding  around,  in  silv'ry  waveb  of  peace, 

With  whisper  soft  bidding  vexation  cease  : 
Earth,  uh  a  paradise  in  vernal  bloom, 

Bedecked  with  beauty's  smile  the  heart  to  please  : 
All  nature  rising  from  ungenial  gloom, 
And  bursting  into  life,  new  charms  jach  hour  t'  assume. 

LI. 

Vet — Judah  !    He,  thy  princely  Lord  and  Lion, 

Had  warfare  to  accomplish.     Sin  and  Hell, 
(Stern  foes  !)  still  fixed  their  foreheads  against  Zion, 

And  this,  her  weal.     Not  tongue  of  man  can  tel! 

How  they  conspired,  with  machinations  fell, 
'Gainst  God  and  His  Anointed.     (In  the  page 

Of  Revelation,  'tis  recorded  well.) 
All  madly,  too,  the  heathen  did  engage 
To  mock  Jehovah's  pow'r,  with  wild,  with  senseless  rage. 

LIT. 

O  man  most  blind  !  What  darkness  had  disgraced 
Thy  reason's  ray,  (obscured,  alas !  and  dim  ; 

Yet  still  the  beacon  true,  within  thee  placed, 
To  warn  and  guide,)  that  thou  didst  war  with  Him, 
Who  left,  for  thee,  the  realm  where  seraphim 

Circle  His  throne :  where  the  archangels  high — 
Whose  cup  with  glory  sparkles  to  the  brim — 

Humbly  adoring,  stand  submissive  by ; 

Shad'wing  with  silv'ry  wings,  each  starlike,  radiant  eye. 


II 


j|- 


THE  FULLNESS  OF  TIME. 


43 


LIII. 

0  iiiudncss  of  the  heart !  the  phrensied  brain 
Ne'er  equalled  this,  in  its  delusions  wild  : 

Delirium,  in  its  dark,  infuriate  reign,     '  J 

Had  no  such  thoughts.    This  madness  was  the  child 
( >f  impious  Pride,  from  Wisdom  far  exiled. 

To  war  with  the  Redeemer  !  to  despise 
Mercy  and  Vengeance — Love  that  gracious  smiled, 

Biiidino-  the  sinner  come  and  share  the  skies  ! 

Satan !  this  stood  supreme  o'er  all  thy  victories. 

LIV. 

Drew  on  the  time  which  prophets,  heav'n-inspired, 

Declared  should  come — the  all-auspicious  day. 
Judea"s  sons  glad  expectation  fired, 

Of  a  hlcst  coming  change  :  nor  only  they 

Looked  for  a  morning  of  a  brighter  ray, 
Than  e'er  had  dawned  on  earth.     Sages  averred 

A  mighty  conqueror  was  on  his  way. 
To  ransom— to  redeem.    Hell's  groan  was  heard  ; 
And  Tophet  all  its  waves  e'en  from  the  bottom  stirred.  ^ 

LV. 

Unearthly  sounds  were  heard  upon  the  steep 

Of  Jordan's  mountains — wailings  of  despair  ; 
Dread  mourning — as  when  baffled  demons  weep, 

Jn  impotence  of  fury — filled  the  air. 

Unwonted  horrors  did  the  sinner  share ; 
And  dark  forebodings  of  Immanuers  reign 

And  victory,  the  hosts  of  hell  did  scare : 
Nor  rested  thev  from  opposition  vain. 
Harp !  let  thy  strings  vibrate  a  louder,  sterner  strain. 


I'  If  ««pl()Jfl»BSipB»^|t»Tnw 


T 


44 


THE  CROSS. 


LVI, 


Emerged  the  lost  from  the  deep  waves  of  hell ; 

From  the  dread  gulf  of  the  abyss  of  flame  : 
Where,  mountainous,  the  fi'ry  surges  swell 

With  everlasting  roar.    Fiercely  they  came 

On,  where  the  portals,  of  stupendous  frame, 
O'erarch  with  horrors  black  the  gloomy  gates— 

Whose  mysteries  of  terror  have  no  name- 
Where  Death,  with  massive  keys,  (grim  porter !)  waits ; 
And,  sternly  scowling,  ^rlares  thro'  the  red,  glowing  grates 

LVII. 

Glared  fiendish  eyes,  from  the  ur.!.oly  dead. 
As,  like  a  flood,  along,  fierce  swept  the  crowd ; 

As  wave  on  wave,  rank  upon  rank  they  sped. 
With  voices  like  the  blast  of  thunder  loud — 
Their  fi'ry  breath  streamed  upward,  as  the  cloud 

That  bears  the  lightning.    With  terrific  swing 
Those  gates  burst  widely — his  demeanor  proud, 

Eierce-eyed,  within  strode  the  tremendous  king  : 

Hell's  caverned  echoes  woke,  its  monarch  welcoming. 

LVIII. 

Stern  gazing,  for  a  while,  he  silent  took 

His  brazen  trump;  and  blew  a  warlike  blast: 
Hell's  adamantine  arches,  starting,  shook ; 

And  its  black  portals  bowed  their  columns  vast. 

Onward,  as  speeds  the  storm,  the  summons  passed 
To  the  remotest  bounds  where  demons  dwell : 

A  ruddier  gleam  the  swelt'ring  billows  cast — 
Intenser  burned  the  fires,  whose  blazes  fell 
Enwrap  the  tortured— at  that  warning  known  fiUi  well, 


ijUffij^x^mjum  iiiippi 


THE  SUMMOWS. 


45 


LIX. 

As  ]K)ur  the  stars  fror  the  bright,  glitt'ring  east, 

Streaming,  all  numberless,  along  the  sky- 
When,  from  his  golden  chariot,  hatii  released 
The  Sun  his  coursers— from  their  fountains  high, 
IVlagnificent,  outspreading  on  the  eye ; 
Where  deserts  wide  unfold  their  arid  world— 
As  sandy  clouds  sweep  on  the  tempest  by ; 
'* '  As  leaves  autumnal,  by  the  north  wind  hurled : 

Thus  Tdphet's  armies  rushed,  with  sable  flag  unfurled. 

LX. 


rrates 


As  round  him  in  array  their  legions  sweep. 
Stands  Satan,  as  a  rock ;  that  o'er  the  waves 
,  Uphfted — when  the  spirit  of  the  deep, 

^  Roused  by  the  war  of  winds,  in  fury  raves — 

Rears  high  its  brow,  and  all  the  billows  braves. 
Awful  he  stands,  in  majesty  ;  replete 
^  With  innate  pow'r,  and  energy  that  craves 

From  none  or  help,  or  counsel.    At  his  feet, 
'>•  Tn  haughty,  swelling  floods,  th'  unnumbered  faithless  meet. 

LXI. 

King  of  the  proud !  whose  sovereign  commands 
None  question  here — whose  undisputed  sway 
(ioverns  all  hearts ;  behold  !  submissive  bands, 
Spread  limitless  around  in  wide  array,         ' 
1  Await  thy  will.    To  hear,  and  to  ©bey, 

Is  ours  :  expectantly  we  wait  thy  word. 
'  Wherefore  thus  summoned,  mighty  monarch !  say.' 

Outspake  then,  sternly,  sin's  terrific  lord, 
}llr.  Beloved  of  hearts  below,  by  righteous  Heav'n  abhorred. 


46 


THE  CROSS. 


LXII. 

•Souls  of  the  free,  the  fearless !  dauntless  ones — 

Spirits  of  finer  frame,  who  nobly  own 
No  monarch's  pow'r,  save  mine ;  fiecdom's  true  sons, 

Valiant  as  wise — who  bow  not  at  the  throne, 

Whore  sits  tiie  King  who  rules  in  heav'n  alone  ; 
Earth,  hell,  are  ours — so  let  them  still  remain  ! 

Our  vast  dominion  ne'er  be  overthrown  : 
Man  bo  our  willing  slave ;  to  wear  the  chain. 
Which  thousand  worlds  to  rend  may  seek ,  but  seek  in  vain. 

LXIII. 

'Comes  on  the  da} ,  prophets  declared  of  old, 

Should  see  God's  son  victoriously  arrive 
'Mong  fallen  men  ;  and  conquering  unfold 

His  banner  in  the  fight :  empow'r'd  to  give 

Exemption  from  our  bonds  to  all  that  live. 
Commissioned  thus — descends  He  from  on  high. 

From  sin,  and  guilt,  and  woe,  their  souls  to  shrive. 
Draws  on  the  day — the  hour,  the  moment,  nigh  : 
Jjet's  greatly  strive,  and  prove  the  prophets  spake  a  lie. 

LXIV 

'Firm,  bold,  and  brave — to  war  with  Him  in  heav'n 
Be  ours  :  nor  let  us  tame  our  rights  forego. 

Let  lightnings  blast — the  firmament  be  riv'n, 
With  all  His  thunder — the  abyss  below 
With  tenfold  horror  rage.    Let  the  storm  blow, 

Of  his  concentrate  wrath,  upon  each  head  ;  .  , 

The  furnace  of  His  fury  fiercely  glow ;  . 

And  earth  and  hell  be  mingled  in  the  dread 

Chaos,  which  once  they  were  :  till  all  of  life  be  dead, 


Satan's  ADbREss. 


LXV. 


47 


•Save  that  which  cannot  die.    Tho'  at  His  side, 
:^Ivriads  of  strong  archangels  draw  the  sword ; 

Proud  let  us  stand,  and  the  event  abide. 
Have  not  the  phials  of  His  wrath  been  poured 
Upon  our  heads  ere  now  1  the  lightnings  stored 

In  treasury  of  tortures,  fiercely  burst 

Around ;  nor  left  one  thunder  of  that  hoard  ? 

Burns  not  His  hatred  with  immortal  thirst  ? 

Arm— arm  !  arrive  what  will— we  feel,  we  know  the  worst. 

LXVI. 

'What  worse  than  Ml  1  Is  farther  woe  reserved 
For  those  who  dwell  in  Tophet"s  gulf  profound, 

Amid  avenging  fire  ?  hath  he  not  nerved 
His  red  right-hand,  to  deal  destruction  round 
Our  faithful  bands  tormented  beyond  bound  ? 

War  be  our  cry  !' Swept  onward  as  a  river, 

His  words.    Exultingly  that  host  around. 

With  curses  deep,  that  made  e'en  stern  hell  shiver, 

Swore  to  contend  with  Him — Immanuel — for  ever. 

LXVII 

A  voice  then  echoed  thro'  th'  expanse  of  hell ; 

Like  wind,  at  even,  on  the  silent  shore 
Of  ocean.  As  around  its  accents  swell, 
Tho'  still  and  small — hushed  is  the  fiendish  roar 

Of  execration  :  from  that  host  no  more. 
Tumultuous,  rose  th'  exulting  shout  of  war. 

A  breathless  trance,  like  that  of  death,  came  o'er 
The  boastful  bands :  as  spake  that  voice  afar — 
Around  were  silent  all,  asdeatli's  still  sleepers  are. 


wwrtmf'ffF^."'  '"•''  "  ''"' 


1 


r^' 


48 


TR£  CROSS. 


LXVIfl. 

*  Woe  to  rebellious  wonns !  that  madly  strive 

With  their  Creator;  dare  dispute  His  will, 
Whose  frown  is  death,  whose  word  makes  all  alive — 

Th'  Omnipotent :  whose  works  of  glory  fill 

All  space ;  who  bids  the  stars  of  heav'n  stand  still, 
And  they  obey  ;  who  but  withdraws  His  breath — 

The  universe  sinks  down  in  cureless  ill, 
All  creatures  totter  o'er  the  brink  of  death. 
None  can  withstand  His  pow'r :  'tis  done,  whate'er  He  saith. 

LXIX. 
Woe  to  the  wicked,  who  presumptuous  strive 

With  the  Triune,  Lord  of  eternity  ! 
Whose  bolts  the  everlasting  mountains  rive  ; 

Who  fetters  with  strong  chain  the  raging  sea, 

And  bounds  it  by  perpetual  decree. 
Satan,  beware !  not  all  His  shafts  are  spent. 

Still  are  there  thunders  in  His  treasury — 
The  sevenfold  thunders  of  Th'  Omnipotent— 
To  baffle  thine  array,  in  wide  destruction  blent. 

LXX. 

'Shall  the  dry  grass  its  feeble  stem  uprear, 

In  lightning's  flashes,  and  their  fury  brave  ? 
Shall  stubble,  chaff,  and  thorns,  the  trial  dare, 

When  torrent  floods  of  fire  roll  on  their  wave  ? 

When  loud,  o'er  land  and  sea,  tornadoes  rave. 
Shall  the  light  thistle-down  withstand  their  pow'r  ? 

When  giant  gusts  rush  from  the  mountain-cave. 
Shall  silv'ry,  sailing  clouds  loiter  that  hour ; 
Nor  feel  the  mighty  blast,  o'ertuming  tree  and  tow'r  ? 


ttS^^ 


8ATAS  REBUKED. 


49 


lil, 


le  saith. 


LXXI. 

'Satan !  howc'er  thy  haughty  heart  may  swell— 

Arcliangels  wonder — demons,  men,  deride  ; 
Unmoved  alike  by  earth,  or  heav'n,  or  hell, 

That  by  my  prophets  spoken,  shall  betide : 

Immutable  my  promises  abide. 
'I'riuniphant  over  thee,  and  death— My  Son, 

Shall  rule,  with  royal  sway,  creation  wide : 
:\lcinkind  adore,  from  dark  perdition  won. 
^^y  cliangcless  word  is  passed :  it  shall — it  shall  be  done  !' 


5 


■■'"')1»!"f-  l|"Hi¥W 


■iji^iiivn  mqufpppi^LmnijMni. 


I 


THE  CROSS. 


BOOK  II. 

A. VALYSig.— Stanzas  1—3,  The  Majesty  of  God,  the  Centre  of  all  Bc'ng.  l- 
7,  Poetic  asplrniions,  and  Prayer.  8,  Sophists,  9,  'Ihomas  Paine.  11,  \o\v 
ton,  14—29,  Visions,  showing  the  horrors  entailed  by  Sin.  32,  Zion  watch 
ing  lor  the  Desire  of  all  Nations.  33,  Pride  of  the  Pharisees;  Scepticism  of 
the  Sadducees  ;  Frilse  rotions  of  the  Jews,  respecting  the  character  of  the  Mes- 
siah. 

34,  Address  to  Jerusalem,  on  His  Advent.  37—30,  His  appearance  in  tiir 
Tcniplf.  His  majesty,  meekncfe-,  wisdom,  love.  Divinity.  40—42,  Satan  bnf 
ik'd,  plots  anew.  45— 48,  The  Saviour's  Mirnclcs.  40,  Ilis  preacliing  :  such 
words  as  never  nnn  spilto,    50,  Tlie  Plinrisec,  and  the  Publican. 

51,  The  Poet  pauses,  lo  contemplate  Nature.  52—58,  Description  of  Jlorn- 
ing. 

I. 

Sun  of  tiio  ii^nivorso !  whose  sleepless  eye 

Doth,  at  a  glance,  unnumbered  worlds  behold  ; 
►Sweeps  the  broad  fields  of  ether,  spread  on  high 

Around  yon  orbs — that  clustering  unfold 

Their  paradise  of  beauty,  gems,  and  gold  ; 
Where'er  arrive  the  sacred  beams  of  light, 

IVwre  is  Thy  presence :  where  extension,  rolled 
As  ocean,  sweeps  above  th'  empyreal  height ; 
There  are  Thy  works.    Yon  dome  magnificent,  of  night, 

II. 

Bespeaks  Thy  pow'r.    Bright  as  a  wondrous  dream, 

Effulge  the  starry  hosts  in  proud  array: 

With  eyes  of  glory  that  immortal  seem, 
And  brows  of  calmer  smile  than  men  display- 
Serene  they  walk  along  the  heav'nly  way. 

In  silent  majesty  and  order  deep. 
How  holy,  and  how  beautiful  are  they  ! 

Like  bands  angelic  :  as,  in  love,  ihey  keep 

Watck  o'er  the  world ;  while  toil-o'erweuricd  mortals  sleep. 


I 


Jti 


>  I  ipwiipnw 


rOETlC  ASPIRATIONS. 


III. 


61 


Centre  of  being  !  prime  Original 

Of  that  which  was  and  shall  be  ;  whence  derive 
Their  essence  and  existcn'^e,  eacli  and  all 

Tliy  creatures  manifold,  that  move  and  live: 

Soul  of  the  universe  !  Thy  guidance  give. 
IlluM     my  darkness,  O  Thou  pccrlessi  Sun 

(         "a  inofiliblc!  as  on  Istrlvc, 
I'oiuL  me  the  path  ;  that  1  false  ways  may  shun ; 
'J'heii  gild  wit!)  glory ;  when  my  toil,  my  travel's  done. 

IV. 

V  0  .stars  of  hoav'n !  on  your  ethereal  path 

\c  have  no  resting-place.     Along  the  steep 
()1  you  unbounded  blue;  whose  azure  hath 

No  hkcness  upon  earth— so  calm,  so  deep, 

So  shadowless  its  purple  billows  sleep, 
A.S  lulled  eternally  in  peace  profound — 

Onv/ard,  still  on,  your  shining  course  ye  keep : 
Each  like  a  king  with  gems  and  glory  crowned, 
Di.sponsing  beauty,  light,  on  all  above,  around, 

V. 

If  that  my  soul,  unhindered  in  its  course, 
Might  speed  like  ye  along  the  heav'nly  way ; 

Tho'  small  its  lustre,  mipotent  its  force — 

Upheld  by  Him,  whose  hand  by  night,  by  day, 
("an  guide  my  falt'ring  footsteps  lest  I  stray  ; 

How  blessed  my  lot !  Tho'  ne'er  on  earth  to  shine, 
(Save  when  ray  glow  worm-lamp,  with  feeble  ray. 

Brightens  the  gloom,)  what  blissful  life  were  mine  ! 

But  now — toil,  weakness,  woe,  to  check  my  course  combine. 


--^,i|M,»jiH«ji,yHl^j;u 


fiiipimiiii   M,  uj  ftim!nii>m>"''"-*wv 


THE  CROSS. 


VI. 


Vet  let  me  trust  in  Him,  who  ne'er  forsook 

His  feeblest  foll'wer,  wandering  below  ! 
Wlio,  from  the  womb,  this  fragile  structure  took, 

And  bade  a  mother's  breast  with  balm  o'erflow. 

Let  me  upon  His  pow'r.  His  mercy,  throw 
My  weary  burden — all  my  grief  and  pain, 

My  anguish,  and  my  weakness,  and  iny  woe- 
Friend  of  the  fatherlesst !  do  Thou  sustain  ; 
And  bear,  forme,  tho  links  of  life's  encumb'ring  chain. 

VII. 

Bind  up  my  bleeding  wounds.  Thou  gentle  Lanil) ! 

Who  love  compassionate  for  me  did'st  feel. 
Thou,  and  Thou  only,  seest  what  1  ain  : 

Thy  love  alone  my  stricken  heart  can  heal, 

And  chase  the  grief  my  bosom-shades  conceal. 
Come — for  Thou  knov,  'st  what  pains  this  heart  oppress- 

Saviour  Omnipotent !  Thy  help  reveal : 
Come — for  Thou  knowest  all  my  deep  distress — 
Revive  my  fainting  soul ;  strengthen,  uphold,  and  bless. 

VTII. 

Hence,  ye  vain  sophists  !  "all  ihings  as  they  W3re 
From  the  beginning" — say !  is  this  your  creed  ? 

Behold  yon  heav'ns !  the  stars  that  glitter  there— 
Had  they  no  Maker  ?  did  destruction  breed 
Their  shining  forms,  (where  man,  not  blind,  may  read 

The  wonders  of  Omnipotence ;  and  improve 
Night's  darkling  hours :)  that  eloquently  plead 

His  cause ;  who  bade  them  not  unbeauteous  rove 

O'er  earth,  beneath  the  smile  of  thousand  eyes  of  love  ? 


i 


i 


^lllH^P-llWfl'WMUii 


■  IIVtl'fWJ.)#.lli^'|JWI 


THE   STARRY  HEAVENS. 


53 


iS— 


,d 


IX. 

And  thou — whose  tonyae  long  since  is  dumb  in  death ! 

The  worshipper  of  Reason,  phrensy-driven : 
Who  railed  at  Revelation  with  rank  breath ; 

Asking — ^"if  such  had  been  to  mortals  given, 

Why  was  't  not  written  with  the  stars  of  Heaven  ?" 
Deluded  man  !  hadst  thou  upturned  thine  eye, 

With  a  pure  heart,  at  hallowed  hour  of  even ; 
Thou  migiit'st  have  read,  in  scriptures  of  the  sky. 
Tomes  of  eternal  truth,  and  pow'r,  revealed  on  high. 

i  ^• 

Beams  there  not  there  a  revelation,  bright 

Beyond  th'  imaginings  of  mortal  mind — 
ig'  Of  pow'r,  of  glory,  excellence  and  might, 

Wisdom,  and  majesty,  ?,nd  skill  combined  ; 

J">pleudour  supreme,  tliat  can  no  equal  find — 
To  tell  of  the  Eternal :  to  allure 

The  heart  to  holiness  and  heav'n  ?    Oh  !  blind 
Is  he  who  cannot  read  those  pages  pure  ; 
Than  which  the  sacred  Word  ne'er  spake  a  language  truer. 

XI. 

How  bright,  in  contrast  with  a  heart  like  thine, 

Slione  the  seraphic  spirit  of  the  man — 
The  starry  seer — v/hose  soul  was  all  divine  ; 

Whose  mental  grasp  did  nature's  wonders  span  : 

Who,  skilled  iu  her  deep  mysteries,  outran 
Wisdom  of  ages ;  and  in  early  youth, 

Philosopher  profound,  did  science  scan  ; 
And  saw  a  God  in  all,  and  Heav'nly  Truth, 

And  Wisdom  infinite  I  This  man  was  great,  in  sooth. 

6* 


Ij 
N 


-  iJ|»P.II.!l»J|yiU,!l  IJIt.BUIIllliJ!  iL.UH(pj^.., 


54 


THE    CROSS. 


XII. 

O  Calv'ry !  how  a  thought  on  thee  annuls 
All  other  thought !  be  thou  my  only  theme. 

Be  Golgotha,  the  ghastly  place  of  skulls, 
My  Pindus — my  Parnassus  ;  Kedron's  stream, 
My  Helicon  :  where  I  would  nightly  dream ; 

And  all  day  in  entranced  vision  view. 
High  on  the  cross — Almighty  to  redeem — 

My  dying  Lord.    O  Holy  One  and  True  I 

Give  me  a  heart  all  pure  ;  my  spirit  quite  renew. 

XIII. 

Creation  ne'er  beheld  such  awful  sight, 

Such  mystery  of  wonders ;  as  that  day 
Unfolded  to  the  view,  on  Ca^lvry's  height : 

When  on  the  cross,  the  Saviour  did  display 

His  blooding  wounds  ;  and  to  His  Father  pray — 
That  those.  His  murderers,  who  nailed  Him  there, 

Might  have  forgiveness.     Guilty  too  as  they, 
Oh  !  lot  me — let  mc  too,  Tliy  mercy  share  ! 
Jesus !  my  sins  the  nails,  the  spear,  the  wormwood  were. 

XIV. 

A  vision  came  before  mc  in  the  night. 

Scaring  my  soul — a  city  of  the  dead : 
Where  the  few  living  stalked  in  pale  affright, 

Like  spectres  in  a  charnel-house.     Like  lead, 

Their  liollow,  sunken  eyes  no  lustre  shed  ; 
And  on  their  cheeks  the  smile  of  madness  played. 

Blue  livid  sjiots  their  ghastly  skin  o'erspread : 
Convulsively,  with  famine's  lust  decayed,        -  ' 

Shivered  their  forms ;  and  each  a  harr'wing  sight  displayed. 


w^PB^t^    JF^TS^^ 


VISIONS. 


55 


ere. 


played. 


XV. 

Famine  upon  their  souls  its  change  had  brought. 

The  husband  with  fell  looks  pursued  the  wife ; 
By  rav'ning  fury  to  delirium  wrought, 

The  father  on  his  daughter  drew  the  knife — 

The  motlier  from  her  suckling  drained  the  life, 
And  hewed  its  tender  limbs  with  horrid  rage — 

Brother  with  brother  fought  in  deadly  strife  : 
Where,  o'er  the  corse,  with  wolves  did  dogs  engage, 
On  rottenness  did  some  their  hunger's  pangs  assuage. 

XVI. 

It  vanished.    On  my  view  arose  a  scene. 

Of  diiFrent  aspect.    Swept  by  ocean's  wave, 
Circling  its  em'rald  shore  with  blue  serene, 

A  lovely  isle  a  pleasant  prospect  gave. 

Gently  as  did  the  tide  its  borders  lave. 
Breathed  balm  the  wind.    Like  gardens,  in  their  pride, 

Its  fields  appeared  ;  and  towns  and  cities  brave 
Were  scattered  o'er  its  plains  on  ev'ry  side  : 
And  on  its  swelling  seas  did  potent  navies  ride. 

XVII. 

'Twas  changed.     The  wind  spake  thunder  as  it  passed  ; 

The  fields  were  black  with  blood — the  towns  o'erthrown 
The  sea  rose,  mountainous,  before  the  blast ; 

And  of  unnumbered  wretches  drowned  the  groan, 

That  in  the  mighty  deeps  sank  down  like  stone. 
War  blew  his  trumpet.    Mustering  full  fast, 

(As  when  tne  fabled  serpent's  teeth  were  sown,) 
Armies  around  unfolded  legions  vast ; 
And  swept,  with  storm  of  death,  that  prostrate  land  agha«t. 


6G 


THE  CROSS. 


XVIII. 

It  vanished.     Stood  I  on  a  mountain's  height. 

Beneath  me  lay  a  smiling  continent, 
A  universe  of  joy — arrayed  in  light 

And  loveliness :  where  pleasure  thoughtless  spent 

Enraptured  hours.    Far  as  mine  eye  was  sent, 
Glitt'ring  with  gold,  proud  cities  with  their  tow'rs 

Sparkled  hcneath  the  sun  :  while  nature  lent 
Ilor  meed  of  joy — rich  fields  and  blooming  flow'rs, 
And  paradisal  plains,  bedecked  with  beauty's  bow'rs. 

XIX. 

Music  was  on  the  air,  and  songs  were  hoard 

Around.     Came  suddenly  an  awful  tone- 
It  was  not  voice  of  man,  or  beast,  or  bird  ; 
But  a  deep,  fearful  sound,  like  nature's  groan  : 
And,  as  it  came — roof  and  foundation-stone, 
Those  cities,  with  their  tow'rs,  did  shake  and  quiver  ; 

Man's  princely  works  of  pride  were  overthrown, 
Crumbling  to  dust.    Destruction,  like  a  river. 
Swept  on  :  and  from  its  rage  none  could  that  land  deliver. 

XX. 

Next  did  I  see  an  aged  sinner  weep. 

No  tear  of  penitence  bcdt.wed  his  eyt  — 
His  was  the  agony  of  terror  deep : 

For  close  arrived  the  hou.-  when  he  must  die. 

And,  as  his  glance  ranged  t'pward  to  the  sky, 
Methought  I  viewed  the  stare  of  horror  wild ; 

That  shall  be  seen  at  left  of  Him  on  high, 
At  the  great  day :  when  mountain  vengeance  piled 
Shall  crush  to  veriest  hell,  myriads  from  heav'n  exiled. 


m 


VISIONS. 


XXT. 


m 


Then,  brought  before  my  view,  a  radiant  form 

In  loveUness  of  youth,  mine  eye  beheld : 
Like  a  gay  pleasure-bark,  that  never  storm 

Breathed  on ;  with  gentle  gales  its  canvas  swelled. 

Again  I  gazed— The  sight  my  spirit  qvielled. 
Ii  wore  the  garb,  and  ghastliness  of  Sin  : 

Its  furrowed  face  the  smile  of  hope  repelled  : 
On  its  corrupted  cheek  did  white  worms  win 
Their  way ;  till  nought  was  left  but  bones  yclad  in  skin. 

XXII. 

1  saw  a  den  beneath  a  burning  sky — 

Iron,  and  stone,  a  narrow  dungeon  made  ; 
From  men  within,  close  crowded,  came  a  cry 

Thut  heart  of  adamant  might  have  affraycd ; 

Piercing  into  the  soul.    For  mercy  prayed 
A  hundred  wretches,  swelt'ring  iu  a  sea 

Of  horrors  that,  before,  but  ball  displayed : 
And  bitterly  besought  their  guards  to  free, 
By  death,  their  souls  from  worse  than  mortal  agony. 

XXIII. 

Theirs  was  the  fever's  rage,  whose  fi'ry  glow 
Burns  the  heart  black  ;  and  thro'  tlie  scorching  veins, 

Like  molten  brass  bids  the  hot  current  flow. 
On  to  the  bars — where,  from  the  arid  plains, 
Breathes  the  light  wind — that  band  a  strife  maintains. 

Deadly  as  that  raging  in  hell  beneath  ; 

Where  everlasting  hate  with  tumult  reigns. 

Hangs  o'er  them  high,  with  pestilential  breath, 

A  grey,  mephitic  cloud  ;  whose  drops  are  dews  of  death. 


I 


■!iBfflj,p.Wfi  mmyyf 


\mivt'i,;9^  jff  ««r<m*  "".  Y.  ?» "f  H)flMW 


r>8 


THE  CROSS. 


XXIV. 

Thfirs  was  tli'  infuriate  plireiisy  of  the  brain, 

That  follows  at  the  heels  of  grim  despair ; 
When  soul'j,  insensible  to  all  but  pain, 

The  degradation  of  the  flesh  must  share — 

And  reasonless  the  body's  curse  must  bear- 
Annihilate,  'twould  soorn,  to  all  but  woe  : 

Thus  miserably  did  those  victims  fare. 
^lorning  beheld  the  dead.     Few  thence  did  go 
Alive  ; — and  changed  !  a  mother's  eye  not  one  coald  know. 

XXV. 

Next  did  I  see  a  heart ;  that  with  keen  steel 

Severed,  its  bloody  fibres  did  disclose. 
Its  dark  recesses  did  a  sight  reveal, 

More  fearful  than  those  many  ghastly  vroes, 

Beholding  which,  horror  my  spirit  froze. 
I  looked — foul  snaky  worms  entwining  tliere, 

Each  on  a  sep'rate  fibre,  did  expose 
Their  venomed  fangs  ;  the  gazer's  soul  to  scare. 
Those  worms — hate,  envy,  pride,  all  evil  passions,  were, 

XXVI. 

Then,  in  my  dream,  a  voice  its  accents  shed — 
'Sin's  slightest  work,  mortal !  thou  hast  beheld  •, 

Now  see  a  stranger  sight — the  tortured  dead.' 
I  saw  a  gulf,  whose  glowing  surges  swelled 
On  high  ;  and  'gainst  a  fi'ry  roof  rebelled, 

(That  overspanncd  that  fcithoii;]ess  profound, 
On  pillars  propped,^  with  wrinkled  features  eld 

Of  sin  engraved,  and  eyes  that  all  around 

Shot  terror ;  from  whose  rays  the  lost  no  refuge  found  : 


r 


VISIONS. 


bo 


XXVII. 

'J'he  mystery  of  hell.    The  tide  of  flame 

Rolled  onward,  on.    Within  its  iron  caves — 
As  the  unstable  billow  went  and  camo — 

I  saw  the  souls  of  men  lonw  in  their  graves  ; 

Whoso  shriek  of  horror  drowned  the  roaring  waves. 
Then  spake  that  voice  from  gloom  of  outer  night — 

':\Iortal !  this  scene  thy  deep  reflection  craves. 
'J'hou  secst  the  work  of  sin,  with  pale  afli-ight : 
Yet  viewest  but  a  part.     Behold  a  stranger  siglit.' 

xxviir. 

13ovne  on  the  winged  wind,  I  soared  afar ; 

Till  Salem's  tow'rs  r.pp?ared  beneath  my  feet. 
The  heav'ns  w-erc  black;  without  or  sun  or  star  ;         • 

I3ut,  by  the  rapid  lightning's  flashes  fleet. 

While  thrilled  mine  inmost  soul  with  awe  replete  ; 
I  saw  a  sight — Earth!  Hell  !  and  holy  Ileav'n !  .   ' 

Never  but  once  such  sight  did  mortal  meet— 
Hung  on  the  cross,  with  wounds  unseemly  riv'n,         ■  ■•' 
Creation's  bleeding  Lord — that  man  might  be  ibrgiv'n. 

XXIX. 

»0  thou  false  tongue  !'  (then  said  1  in  my  dream,)  ■ 

'Tiiis  is  the  work  of  love,  the  masterpiece 
Of  unimaginable  love  supreme  ;  -.:,,? 

Beholding  which,  wonder  and  t orrow  seize 

]My  saddenc  J  heart,  and  all  its  fibres  freeze  : 
Till!  deep  contrition  makes  that  clime  serene.'  -  .  -   v/ 

Then  spako  that  voice — 'Mortal !  thy  censure  cease. 
This  is  love's  noblest  work.    Yet  welll  ween,  .        •> 

I  lad  sin  ne'er  wrought,  on  Earth  that  sight  had  ne'er  been  seen." 


i 


60 


THE  CH6S8. 


XXX. 

Gone  is  my  vision.    Yet  before  me  now 
I  view  that  strange,  that  all-transcending  sight. 

High  on  the  cross,  with  pallid  bleeding  brow — 
And  eyes  suffused  in  death's  unlovely  night, 
That  dimly  glazes  o'er  each  orb  of  light-?- 

Thc  Lord  of  Glory  bows  Hisbrea''iless  form. 
Methinks  life's  ray  is  not  extinguished  quite-* 

Heaves  not  the  heart  beneath  that  bosom  warm  ? 

Away  !  'tis  cold  and  still,  and  food  but  for  the  worm. 

XXXI. 

The  Cross — the  crowd— centurion  with  his  band 

Of  iron-visaged  veterans — the  dense, 
Thronged  myriads  around,  on  either  hand— 

The  Pharisee,  high  priest  of  proud  pretence — 

Are  strongly  pictured  to  my  eye,  and  sense. 
See  I  not  these  ?  is  not  this  Calvary  ? 

Burns  not  my  spirit  with  the  view  intense  ? 
It  is  no  dream  :  but  forms  which  graven  be 
On  each  believing  heart,  which  still  that  sight  doth  see. 

XXXII. 

Turn  we  to  tell  of  times,  when  Zion  kept 

Watch  from  her  walls.    The  warders,  day  and  night, 
With  eye  of  watchfulness  that  never  slept, 

Looked  for  the  long  Desired  ;  whose  coming  brighjt 

Should  gild  her  gloom  with  more  than  morning's  light-.— 
Whose  reign  should  be  eternal,  on  the  throne 

Of  David  ruling  with  resistless  might, 
Conq'ror  and  King :  whep,  all  her  foes  o'erthrown, 
ThiC  world  should  own  His  sway,  and  bend  to  Him  alone. 


ADDRESS  TO  JERUSALEM. 


61 


M 


ht. 


ht^ 


ne. 


XXXIII. 

The  Pharisee,  vain-glorious  in  hia  pride, 

In  saintly  garb  with  broad  phylactery ; 
The  Sadducee,  who  spirit,  soul  denied, 

Deeming  that  after  death  no  life  shall  be ; 

Chief  captains,  high  estates  of  Galilee, 
Levite  and  priest,  Samaritan  and  Jew — 

Expected  each,  a  conqueror  to  see  : 
Beneath  whose  sceptre,  all  their  land  anew 
Sliould  wake  to  glory,  that  the  former  times  ne'er  knew. 

XXXIV. 

.Terusalem  !  thou  city  of  the  Great 

Eternal  King !  upon  thy  holy  hill 
Of  Zion,  lo  !  with  triumph's  songs  elate, 

Descends  the  heav'nly  host ;  whose  harpings  fill 

The  skies  around  with  their  harmonious  thrill. 
lOcho  responds — "FL^annah  to  the  Son  !" 

Widely  the  waves  of  sound  are  spreading  still : 
And  yet  more  fleet  the  courier  angels  run, 
Proclaiming  all  around— "good  will  toman  undone." 

XXXV. 

* 

Behold,  upon  the  hills,  their  beauteous  feet, 

Who  bring  the  tidings  of  great  joy.    Bel,^old 
His  heralds— while  the  blissful  moments  fleet— 

Their  message  of  good  will  and  peace  unfold ; 

And  while,  from  man  to  man,  the  tidings  told. 
Sweep  o'er  the  land — awaking  at  the  sound. 

Emotions  thrill  in  hearts  that  long  lay  cold  : 
And  hallowed  fire  dispels  the  gloom  around. 
That  long  o'er  Zion's  sons  had  shed  its  night  profound. 


62 


THE  CROSS. 


lit  5 1 


XXXVI. 

"Lift  up  your  heads,  ye  everlasting  doors ! 

Be  ye  uplifted,  everlasting  gates !" 
The  King  of  Glory  comes  with  all  His  pow'ra ; 

Zion's  Deliverer  no  longer  waits 

A  future  hour :  the  God  who  peace  create*, 
Comes  to  enfranchise  Zion.    Prince  of  Peace, 

How  long  desired  Thy  coming ;  hell  abates 
No  jot  of  enmity.    Oh  !  now  release 
From  sin's  dominion  earth,  and  bid  her  sorrows  cease. 

XXXVII. 

Lo !  in  the  temple,  with  a  faithful  train, 

He  stands  sublime,  in  robes  of  whitest  sheen ; 
Superior,  as  o'er  angels  born  to  reign. 

That  eye — how  calm  !  that  aspect— how  serene  ! 

What  majesty,  on  mortal  face  ne'er  seen, 
Beams  from  His  brow !  the  crowd,  in  speechless  trance, 

Is  fain  to  interpose  the  hand  between 
Its  earthly  eye,  and  that  immortal  glance. 
Too  much  of  Heav'n  is  there — it  turns  its  looks  askance. 

XXXVIII. 
How  holy  and  how  mild !  a'l  there  may  see 

The  excellence  of  Deity  displayed ; 
Conscious  perfection — sov'reign  dignity — 

Humility  in  placid  smiles  arrayed, 

Too  great  to  stoop  to  ill ;  with  aspect  staid. 
Meekness  ineffable — heart  of  the  dove. 

Where  th'  eagle's  royalty  its  home  hath  made  ; 
Wisdom,  and  pow'r,  and  gentleness,  and  love, 
Combined  in  one  blessed  form  of  beauty  from  above, 


^ 


^> 


CHRIST  IN  THE  TEMPLE. 


<9 


XXXIX. 

The  Son  of  God—of  Man ;  two  natures  blent 

In  unity  of  person,  where  combine 
True  God  and  perfect  Man ;  Messiah  sent 

Karth  to  redeem — half  human,  half  divine 

In  essence  :  Lord !  all  praise  and  thanks  be  Thine. 
We  creatures  of  an  hour,  before  Thy  throne, 

Deep  in  tlie  dust  our  sinful  heads  decline. 
In  Tliee  our  trust  is  placed,  in  Thee  alone : 
No  other  help  have  we — to  us  Thy  grace  be  shown ! 

XL. 

Now  Satan,  from  his  journey  of  deep  guile 
Daring  to  tempt  The  Holy  One— shot  down 

To  lowest  pit  of  hell.    His  ev'ry  wile 
Baffled — he  tore  his  locks  with  furious  frown, 
And  trampled  'neath  his  feet  his  iron  crown, 

Gnashing  his  teeth  in  pride  and  passion  sore  ; 
Elxtinct  his  glory,  faded  his  renown — 

He  shrank  into  himself:  and  at  his  roar. 

Swelled  mountainous  the  waves,  on  Hell's  terrific  shore. 

XLI. 

Stern,  savage,  subtle,  yet  intent  on  ill, 

He  calms  his  fury.    With  a  brow  maMgn, 
Dark  furrowed  by  its  frown — obdurate  still, 

Hatred  and  envy  in  his  breast  combine ; 

Pond'ring  new  plans  to  thwart  the  work  divine 
Of  man's  redemption :  grievously  he  wrought 

A  labyrinth  of  wiles,  with  deep  design, 
The  work  of  the  Most  High  to  bring  to  nought } 
And  spells  of  wondrous  pow'r,  with  guile  infernal  fraught. 


^ 


M 


THE   CRUSS. 


*  I. 


hi : 


XLII. 

Tlicn  calls  his  council,  and  enthroned  nplifteth 

His  giant  form — as  Ilimalah's  bleak  brow 
Frowns  at  the  thunder  blast,  its  crag  that  rifteth — 

While  the  red  bolts  hell's  murky  billows  plough ; 

Again  he  binds  his  subjects,  by  a  vow 
Of  direst  import,  endless  war  to  wage 

With  Glory's  King : — his  chiefest  purpose,  now, 
INIan's  aid  against  Messiah  to  engage ; 
And  stimulate  his  soul  to  deeds  of  hellish  rage. 

XLIII. 

And  well  did  he  succeed  :  but  doing  so— 

E'en  as  the  man  who  undermines  a  tow'. — 
Pulled  down  upon  his  head  intenser  woe  ; 

Felt  in  its  fullness  the  Almighty's  pow'r, 

And  cursed  the  folly  of  that  fatal  hour. 
Yet  was  he  wise : — but  partial  was  his  view 

Of  the  Eternal's  plan.    Thus  wrath  did  show'r 
Its  heaviest  flood,  where  he  did  most  pursue 
His  wiles  with  subtlest  skill,  and  malice  staunch  and  true. 

XLIV. 

Behold  the  Saviour  by  yon  city's  wall. 

Laid  on  the  bier,  a  mother's  only  son, 
(And  she  a  widow,)  borne  beneath  the  pall, 

Goes  to  his  grave.    Riv'lets  of  sorrow  run 

Adown  the  faded  cheek  of  that  sad  one, 
Left  in  her  widowhood  a  thing  forlorn ;    ' 

Seeming  to  all  by  this  last  blow  undone. 
How  sinks  her  heart  by  speechless  anguish  torn  ! 
Bat  lo !  Jesus  draws  nigh,  and  bids  her  cease  to  mourn. 


^ 


THE  SAVICfUR^  MISACLXS. 


65 


XLV. 

That  hand  of  clay  He  holds  ;  and  bids  arise 
The  dead  man  from  his  bier.    Scarce  sped  the  word- 

The  pallid  corse  unlocks  its  heavy  eyes. 
And  stares  upon  the  crowd ;  the  heart  hath  stirred 
Beneath  that  icy  breast :  the  voice  is  heard. 

Whose  tones  were  wont  a  mother's  heart  to  cheer. 
Death's  debt  wus  truly  paid — by  all  incurred  : 

Yet  now  that  you  g  man  lives ;  and  from  the  bier 

Descending,  fills  each  mind  with  wonder,  joy,  and  fear. 

XLVI. 

Beneath  you  cliff  with  palmy  shade  o'ergrown, 

Behold  that  cave — the  grotto  of  the  dead — 
Hewn  from  the  rock,  and  closed  with  massive  stone. 

There  Lazarus  has  made  his  earthy  bed ; 

His  sorr' wing  sisters  floods  of  anguish  shed; 
Around  the  mourners  stand.    Lo !  Jesus  weeps, 

As  mourns  a  brother  for  a  brother  fled 
To  death's  dark  realm  ;  sad  woe  his  spirit  steeps ; 
Not  unbedevvcd  the  spot,  where  the  departed  sleeps, 

XLVII. 

That  stone  removed — in  calm  and  heav'nly  pray'r, 

He  thanks  the  Father;  then,  with  summons  loud, 
Cries — "Lazarus,  come  forth !"  What  feelings  share 

Those  sisters,  and  that  mute,  expectant  crowd  ! 

Lo !  Lazarus,  in  grave-clothes,  with  the  shroud 
Close  wrapt  around  him,  struggles  from  the  tomb  ; 

Yet  vigorous,  nor  with  death's  languor  bowed. 
Unloosed  tho  napkin,  shows  his  ruddy  bloom : 

His  limbs  set  free,  at  once  their  manly  force  assume, 

6* 


^^^■^»"^- 


■K^'  '-WW-,'  "W«i.1'"'f*W.''.K- 


ri  I  ■  > 


j; 


66r 


THE  CROSS. 


XLVIII. 

Lo !  at  His  word,  th'  unseeing  orb  of  sight 
Finds  a  new  world ;  undazzled  by  the  beam 

Of  new-born  day — exulting  in  the  light 
Till  now  unknown — it  gladdens  in  the  gleam 
Of  morning,  shed  on  rock,  and  tow'r  and  stream. 

How  beauteously,  as  bursts  upon  the  soul 
C  reation's  form — waking,  as  from  a  dream, 

Does  nature  to  that  eye  her  scenes  uproll ; 

While  feelings,  as  ofheav'n,the  bounding  heart  control! 

XLIX. 

What  wisdom  drops;  like  manna,  from  His  tongue  ! 

Sublimity  of  truth  how  does  it  pour, 
By  sage  ne'er  taught — bards,  prophets,  never  sung  ! 

Egypt !  Grec  ce  !  Rome  !  how  vain  your  boasted  store 

Of  knowledge,  when  contrasted  with  the  lore 
Of  Wisdom  from  libove !  hew  doth  it  steal. 

Of  the  deep  heart  e'en  to  the  inmost  core, 
Sharper  than  two-edged  sword  :  and  there  reveal 
The  glory  of  its  light,  and  sin's  death-warrant  seal ! 

L. 

Proud  Pharisee  !  how  shall  thy  soul  endure 

The  scrutiny  of  that  all-piercing  eye  ; 
Before  whose  glance  not  heav'n  itself  is  pure, 

With  all  its  host  of  seraphim  on  high  ? 

Poor  Publican  !  thy  broken  hearted  c\gh 
Is  heard,  and  rather  shall  accepted  be  ! 

Than  pray'r  of  those  who  fain  would  ji  3t"y 
Themselves  to  Him,  Who  loves  not  pride  tose"  ; 
But  honourss  in  the  dust,  saintlike  humi.ity. 


|l(W.^II>l«l,,<!.L11.^1.. 1*1^11' 


■wpn^iw^" 


,^  ymw  ' 


VOKSIVO,  IN  SPRINO. 


LI. 


67 


Pause  we  awhile,  and  gazing  on  the  bloom 
Of  vernal  nature,  hold  communion  sweet 

With  her  and  with  her  Gc^  : ^we  may  resume 

Our  sacred  theme  ere  long : 'tis  not  unmeet 

To  pause  and  wonder,  when^  before  our  feet, 

Tlie  countless  treasures  of  the  spring  are  poured 
Luxuriantly  : — while  dews  celestial  greet 

Each  op'ning  flow'r,  that  spreads  its  i'ragrant  hoard — 

Awhile  to  stop,  and  bless  the  bounty  of  the  Lord. 

LIL 

Lo !  'tis  the  tranquil  hour,  when  Morning  wakes 
From  her  repose  ;  when  on  the  eastern  hill. 

Like  a  young  queen,  in  loveliness  she  makes 
Her  court  a  paradise.    The  winds  are  still — 
Save  the  soft  breeze  that  flow'rs  with  fragrance  fill : 

Smiles  on  the  forest — blushes  on  the  stream — 
Songs  from  the  grove,  and  music  from  the  rill ! 

If  there  be  hour,  when  earth  as  Heav'n  doth  seem  : 

'Tis  now — when  all  is  hallowed  by  Morn's  sacred  beam. 

LIIL 

Behold  the  beauteous  hour  when  nature  weeps 

In  gladness  and  deep  joy  !  when,  as  a  bride 
Decked  for  the  bridegroom,  tears  of  transport  steep 

Her  vermeil  cheek,  with  rosy  blushes  dyed. 

On— on  she  fares,  in  beauty  and  in  pride  ; 
And  all,  beholding,  bless.    In  nature's  smile 

Is  no  deceit.    'Mong  men  doth  oft  betide, 
That  sunny  looks  but  mask  a  heart  of  guile. 
O  heav'nly  Truth  and  Love !  not  yours  deception's  wile. 


68 


THE  CROSS. 


i   ;H 


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g^  J 

fv^ 

i*w'^ 

W 

1 

i 


LIV. 

Sluggard,  awake !  arise !  lose  not  the  prime 
Of  this  sweet  hour.    Now  let  thy  soul  ascend 

Aloft  from  earthly  things,  in  thought  sublime  : 
In  holy  faith  and  trust,  thy  spirit  wend 
To  the  Eternal's  throne.    Morning  will  lend 

Her  wing,  to  waft  thy  pray'r,  as  incense  pure. 
Oh !  seek  aloft  thy  Father  and  thy  Friend, 

Whose  loving  kindness  shall  unchanged  endure  ; 

Like  th'  everlasting  hills,  aye  faithful,  ever  sure. 

LV. 

Heav'nlier  smiles  the  Morn.    Ethereal  light, 
With  motion  tremulous,  the  clouds  on  high 

Gilding  with  glory,  spreads  its  lustre  bright 
Above,  around,  on  all  beneath  the  sky  ; 
Bestrewed  with  roses  ocean's  billows  lie, 

As  slumbering  in  visionless  repose ; 
The  winged  breeze  floats  wafting  odours  by  : 
With  murmuring  the  wanton  rill  o'eiilows 

Its  em'rald  bank ;  and  round  its  balmy  coolness  throws. 

LVI. 

Flow'rs  waken,  as  upsteals  the  crystal  wave. 
Stirring  tho  grassy  stems  around  their  bed  ; 

Th'  ascending  dews  the  forest's  leaflets  lave- 
As  loth  to  quit  the  earth,  curl  slow  o'erhead — 
Then  high  tow'rd  heav'n  their  snowy  volumes  spread. 

Free  over  ocean  white-winged  vessels  roam ; 
Odours  of  land  around  the  breezes  shed  ; 

To  cheer  the  sailor  in  his  wand'ring  home, 

With  incense-bearing  breath,  they  kiss  the  bill'wy  foam. 


-■■^m!^lm'TVf'nf^!'l'!^''!Jg^^9K^fvfi»^m~^  1."',Wl*i 


THE  SEA  SHORE, 


6d 


LVII. 

'Tis  sweet  to  walk  upon  the  pebbled  strand, 

Where  the  calm  wave  a  gentle  murmur  makes  ; 

Where  glistens  white  beneath  our  feet  the  sand  : 
Wiiile  from  the  mountain-cliff  the  eagle  takes 
I  lis  airy  flight — and  as  the  morning  breaks, 

High  o'er  the  fishy  deep  his  wing  doth  poise  ; 
Tiie  distant  sea-bird's  cry  shrill  music  wakes  : 

E"eii  the  hoarse  cormorant's  untune ful  voice 

()"er  briny  ocean  booms,  seeming  to  say — 'Rejoice  !' 

LVIII. 

Tliere  comes  a  frosliness  from  the  brimming  seas, 

We  find  not  in  the  forest  far  away  : 
Tho" — fanned  by  branches  of  unnumbered  trees, 

Waving  a  world  of  leaves — winds,  as  they  play, 

Embathe  with  balm  the  brow  ;  and  cooling  stray. 
Each  region  hath  its  own  peculiar  joys. 

Known  not  elsewhere,  if  bright  or  dark  its  day  : 
With  heart  in  heav'n— contentment  sweetly  buoys 
The  thankful  spirit  up,  above  life's  brict  annoys. 


.<ni^ui4i.<fiiPW*!^i<  f^.iwjjHiipi(i|iN!M>)Pii>tHJpgriMi>u.i!iiii 


1 


THE  CROSS. 

BOOK  III. 


Analysis.— Stariza  1,  Eternity.  %  Man's  littleness.  God's  Providence.  :i 
— 3,  The  Poet  r  jturns  to  his  Theme.  Oppressed  by  affliction,  he  feels  unworthy 
'to  Bing  RedeniJtion.'  But  "lis  sufTring  nerves  the  soul.'  6,  7,  Christ  our  ref- 
uge.   8,  0,  Prayer  for  divine  guidance,  and  sanctifying  grace. 

10,  Tlie  Saviour  in  prayer  on  Olivet.  11— 13,  The  plot  ripens.  14—17.  The 
Saviour  in  the  garden.  18 — 20,  Oetrayed.  21—24,  Arraigned,  mocked,  and  con- 
demned. 27,  28,  His  Crucifixion.  29—38,  Supernatural  Darkness.  Earth- 
quake. The  Veil  of  the  Temple  rent.  Some  of  the  dead  arise.  The  Centuri- 
on's Testimony.    41, 43,  The  Eve  of  the  Sab'jaih.    43,  Xight. 

43,  46.  The  Morning  of  the  Sabbath.  The  I.ord  rises  from  the  tomb.  49,  Ex- 
hortations. S3.  Invitation  to  come  to  the  Saviour.  56 — 58,  Satan  and  Death  de- 
fied. 59,  Christ  ever  pleads  for  man.  60,  Oi,  The  promised  Sabbath  of  tlin 
Millennium.  Ilymnz-'Sound  yo  the  Trumpet.'  63 — 67,  Aspirations  after  holi- 
ness ;  and  Prayer  foi  a  part  in  the  first  Resurrection.  68,  Rapid  approach  of  that 
day.  Hymn— 'Hosannah  to  the  Son  of  God !'  69—73,  Contemplation  of  the 
Day  of  Judgment. 

74 — 77,  The  Poet  closes  his  Work  with  acknowledgments  of  his  own  'noth- 
ingness,' in  comparison  with  so  great  a  subject :  yet  with  hope  of  'acceptance 
with  the  good' ;  and  with  devout  aspirations  after  better  povfers  beyond  the 
grave. 


I. 

Eternity  !  thou  limitless  expanse  ! 

Duration's  shoreless  ocean  without  bound — 
Tow'rd  which  each  hour,  each  moment,  we  advance : 

Whose  waves  roll  onward,  on,  without  a  sound — 

Save  the  deep  voice,  that  swells  from  the  profound 
Abyss,  where  sleep  in  night  th'  old  eras  past ; 

Which,  while  it  breathes  its  awful  tone  around, 
Seems  like  the  knell  of  Time — the  fun'ral  blast 
Of  the  archangel's  trump,  when  Earth  shall  groan  her  laat : 


1ILI»4,41  UfUfWy;^,,    l.ilfll^K.iUHV  1.  ,Mll||^||pjg^J»|,pjp.il|]ll^|JJ|J|«J|(l(^^,_ 


AFFLICTION. 


71 


IT. 

What  are  we?  as  Time's  torrent  stream  rolls  by- 
Mere  atoms  tossed  upon  its  billows  free ! 

Yet  watched  by  Him,  who  sits  enthroned  on  high, 
None  need  be  lost.    Tho'  impotent  arc  we — 
Tempestuous  and  dark,  and  wild  that  sea ; 

A  star  still  beacons  o'er  the  waters  wide, 
Still  points  the  haven  where  our  souls  would  be. 

King  of  the  floods  !  Thou  wilt  in  safety  guide, 

E'en  to  the  end,  all  those  who  in  Thy  truth  confide. 

in. 

Again,  my  sacred  theme,  to  thee  I  turn. 

Leaving  the  world,  and  worldly  care,  behind ; 
Again  I  feel  within  me  ardour  burn  : 

And  as  the  bark — when  the  loud  northern  wind 

Uplifts  the  foamy  waters  unconfined — 
Darts  o'er  the  deep  -,  thus,  while  I  spread  my  sail, 

Oh !  may  the  fav'ring  breeze  its  bosom  find : 
Thus  may  my  ship  glide  on  before  the  gale. 
Heav'n !  let  not  thy  sweet  breath,  of  gentle  influence,  fail. 

IV. 

Unholy ^^how  can  I,  weak  worm,  presume 

To  sing  Redemption  ?  Dark — not  wholly  blind — 
Thro'  this,  my  spirit's  so  ungenial  gloom, 

The  sombre  shadow  of  a  stricken  mind — 

Yet,  thro'  the  creviced  rock,  a  ray  I  find. 
To  cheer  the  cave ;  where  thoughtful  and  alone 

I  rest  me  by  the  torrent's  wave  reclined : 
Whose  melancholy  murmurs  seem  the  moan 
Of  distant  days,  that  smiled  ere  earth's  best  form  had  flown. 


•f'JilMiBff'iir-^^ 


^iiimiii,,niiijjiijiii 


T4 


THE  CROSS. 


'Tis  suff'ring  nen'es  the  soul.    Smitten — at  length 
The  mind  becomes  more  firm,  if  not  more  pure  : 

liOng  in  the  furnace — steeled  to  iron  strength, 
'Tis  taught  its  sternest  trials  to  endure : 
'Gainst  outward  ills  more  tempered,  and  secure. 

Earth  is  a  wilderness  of  trouble  still : 

Much  must  be  borne,  that  Death  alont,  can  cure, 

ilighty  physician!  of  all  earthly  ill 

To  work  a  sov'reign  cure,  unrivalled  is  thy  skill. 

VI. 

Each  moment,  man  draws  nearer  tp  his  grave — 
The  sa:id  glides  fleetly  thro'  tiie  fragile  glass. 

Of  whom,  but  Christ,  can  we  assistance  crave. 
To  shield  us  from  the  storm  ?  if  flesh  be  grass — 
And  time  a  moment  that  must  briefly  pass — 

And  Death  the  entrance  to  Eternity  ; 
Ileav'n,  Hell,  our  doom,  freed  from  this  mortal  mass  : 

Well  do  I  ween,  that  He  alone  can  be 

A  refuge  for  our  souls,  from  endless  wrath  to  flee. 

VII. 

Irian's  glory  fades — the  goodliness  thereof 

E'en  as  the  flow'r,  that  withers  in  the  field. 
Proud  infidel !  tho'  thou  at  this  dost  scofT, 

Witness  unto  its  truth,  thyself  m\ist  yield. 

Tho'  now,  by  sin  and  evil  habit  steeled, 
Thou  put'st  afa.  the  thought  of  dying  day  ; 

How  well  it  vjere  for  thee — hadst  thou  (to  shield 
Thee  from  the  storm,)  a  friend — that  faithful  aye, 
Might  be  thy  sure  support,  thy  rock,  thy  staff,  thy  stay ! 


II %W      "''MWlB^^i  I   II  IJ^ 


THE  SAVIOUR  ON  OLIVET. 


73 


VIII. 

Saviour  of  sinners !  teach  me  to  contemn 

All  things,  compared  with  Thee — a  heav'nly  crown : 
SliU  let  me  seek  a  nobler  diadem, 

Than  e'er  to  earthly  monarch  gave  renown. 

Tho'  friends  prove  faithless,  and  tho'  fortune  frown — 
3[y  soul  on  Thee,  still  let  me  humbly  stay ; 

Still  let  Thine  eye,  in  pitying  love,  look  down  : 
And  lest  again  I  wander  from  the  way, 
Uphold  me  by  Thy  hand  ;  and  send  one  guiding  ray. 

IX. 

Thrice-Holy  God  !  Oh  !  set  thy  servant  free 

From  worldly  bondage :  sanctify  within 
Heart,  soul  and  spirit.    Let  my  nature  be 

Pure  in  its  essence :  washed  from  stain  of  sin : 

White  as  the  mountain  snow — when  rays  begin 
To  gild,  at  morn,  with  living  gold  its  steep. 

Seal  up  my  heart — let  nought  of  evil  win 
An  entrance  to  the  fount  of  feeling  deep :      - 
Be  Thou  my  guard,  my  God,  whether  I  wake  or  sleep. 

X. 

On  Olivet,  all  night — till  early  morn        ' 

Bade  blush  thesky^ — the  Saviour's  prayer  arose,  .       • 

Aloft  by  breezes  of  the  mountain  bc/rne. 
Still  on  He  prayed,  that  man  of  many  woes — 
Still  to  His  Father  did  His  wants  disclose; 

Yet  meekly  bov/cd  to  His  disposing  will : 
''Not  mine,  hut  Thine  be  done,''^  His  spirit  shows. 

Thus,  in  each  circumstance  of  outward  ill. 

And  inward  woe,  my  heart !  be  thou  submissive  still. 


') 


>'  t 


■viO 


■w^pr-wry- 


74 


THE   CROSS. 


i: 


m 


XL 

Now  Satan's  guile  had  worked  its  purposed  ill ; 

Now  madly  men  against  Messiah  strove ; 
Yet,  while  they  wrought  to  controvert  Hia  Will, 

Furthered  the  counsel  of  Almighty  Love. 

Not  unsuccessful  did  their  strivings  prove — 
They  bruised  His  heel     But  He  the  Serpent's  head 

Trampled  full  Low ;  liis  powT,  his  glory  clove 
Down  to  the  dust : — o'er  subject  earth  to  tread 
No  more,  as  monarch  proud,^his  vast  dominion  spread. 

XIL 

Fast  rip'ning  now  the  plots  of  Sin  and  Hell, 
The  awful  hour  drew  near ;  the  time  decreed 

By  Hoav'n — with  prophecy  according  well- 
When  He,  the  Lamb  of  God,  for  man  should  bleed  :- 
Jlysterious  consummation  !  matchless  deed   , 

Of  Wisdom  and  of  Love  !  Justice  and  Grace 
With  mildest  mercy  blending !  th'  utmost  need 

Of  souls  supplied:  for  an  unworthy  race, 

Redemption  wrought — pardon  for  rebels  vije  and  base. 

xm. 

Chief  rulers  with  the  priests,  conspiring,  tajcg 
Counsel  togethpr ;  Jew  and  Gentile  share 

The  common  enmity :  mau-r-for  whose  sake 
He  condescended  form  of  flesh  to  wear— 
His  chiefest  foe.    Not  Satan's  self  could  dare 

A  deed  of  deadlier  malice  to  propound, 
Than  that  whose  guileful  plot  they  now  prepare : 

Not  in  Hell's  annals  is  the  record  found 

Of  aught  30  black,  e'er  done  before  on  earthly  ground. 


G^tHSEMANE. 


76 


XIV. 

Now  weariedly  the  Saviour,  with  his  train 

Of  fond  disciplfes,  to  the  garden  tends : 
Ainon'"  whose  peaceful  shades,  He  oft  is  fain 

To  cahn  his  heated  brow ;  when  Night  descends 

Softly  o'er  earth,  and  all  her  coolness  lends ; 
Fanning  tlio  forehead  and  the  bosom  bare, 

With  the  sweet  breath  her  balmy  spirit  sends : 
Gently  diffusing  round  a  liquid  air, 
3Iingled  with  scent  of  flow'rs,  that  smile  luxuriant  there. 

XV. 

Sihery  twilight — all  around  at  rest—  .^ 

Its  drops  diiTiises ;  weepings  of  the  sky, 
Pule  sorrowing  o'er  earth  with  woe  oppressed. 

And  Him — that  guiltless  One — soon  doomed  to  die. 

The  mountains  and  the  valleys  dreaming  lie ; 
The  winds  are  lulled  upon  the  couch  of  sleep ; 

Nature,  in  weariness,  hath  closed  her  eye  : 
And  while  the  heav'ns  o'er  sinful  mortals  weep,     -   . . 
{ 'reation.  in  its  trance,  doth  holy  silence  keep.  ,.  r 

XV!. 

Glitters  one  star  serenely  in  the  heav'n — •  • 

Bright  watcher  in  the  east !  hailing  this  hour 

Of  loveliness,  its  eyelids  ope  at  ev'n. 

Its  meek  ray  trembles  over  tree  and  tow'r, 
Ocean,  and  forest-glade ;  the  fairy  flow'r, 

Beside  the  rill,  is  painted  by  its  shine ; 
Alike  on  city-wall,  and  garden  bow'r 

Nourished  by  tender  dew,  its  beams  recline : 

Too  pure  for  earth,  that  ray  sheds  lustre  all  divine. 


.i^" 


"f  .ii'juwww-    )"»" 


% 


THE   CROSS. 


XVII. 

Gcthscmane  !  tliy  garden  views  a  sight 
Ne'er  seen  on  eartli  before :  thy  walks  are  trod 

By  Jesu's  foes.    Fiends,  mnrdercrs,  unite 
To  hunt  Tliec  down,  meek,  gentle  Lamb  of  God  ! 
Armed  as  for  battle,  forth  they  rush  abroad. 

Jesus  of  Nazareth  !  they  seek  Thee  there- 
Tracking  Thy  footsteps  on  the  grassy  sod — 

With  swords  and  staves  ;  as  tho'  tlicy  sought  the  lair 

Of  some  fell  beast,  there  wont  from  slaughter  to  repair. 

XVIII. 

.Tudas!  betray  thy  Master  with  a  kiss  !     •..'.-• 

Malice  unmatched  !  immortal  perfidy  ! 
Methinks,  at  name  of  thee,  the  demons  hiss — 

Hell's  snaky  worms  thrust  out  their  tongues  awry. 

'•Take  him,  and  hold  him  fast  J"  And  thus  for  ihee, 
I  ween,  the  sentence  ran : — and  Satan  bound. 

And  will  hold  fast  that  form,  eternally.  ^-  •     ■ 

But  hush — my  soul !  breathe  not  such  thought  around  : 
'Tisnot  for  thee  to  scanHeav'n's  mysteries  profound. 

XIX. 

With  insult  rude,  behold  Him  borne  along— 

Tumultuously  hurried  to  the  hall 
Misnamed  of  Justice —  by  a  murd'rous  throng  ; 

Whose  curses  and  revilingsHim  enthral, 

As  with  hell's  atmosphere.    How  bitter  fall, 
Upon  His  holy  ear,  the  taunt  and  gibe 

Of  mocking  multitudes ;  who  late  did  call 
"Hosannah  to  the  son  !"  ahostile  trilje" '  '    " 
Surrounds  Him ;  Levite,  priest,  and  pharisee,and  scribe. 


'in^-nw  vv^mi^^^m^mm^ 


THE  TRIAL. 

XX. 

Mingled  with  fellows  lewd  of  baser  sort, 

(If  baser  sort  can  bo,)  along  thoy  fare, 
With  cruel  mockery  and  fiendish  sport : 

On  to  the  high-priest's  palace  they  repair. 

Peter  !  let  thy  sad  fall  our  spirits  scare  ; 
Warn  us  of  weakness — teach  us  to  repose 

Our  trust  in  Ilim,  wliose  pow'r  is  present  whore 
His  saints  are  tried  :— who  chief  Ilis  goodness  shows, 
Where  mortal  strength  must  fail ;  and  earth  no  aid  bcsiow> 

XXI. 

Now  on  to  Pilate's  judgment-seat  they  come. 

No  murmur  breathes  that  man  of  many  woes  ; 
But,  like  a  lamb  before  its  shearers  dumb, 

Passive  and  silently,  as  victim,  goes. 

Not  anger's  fire  His  patient  spirit  knows  ; 
Serene  within  His  bosom  charity, 

W^ith  ardent  love,  thro'  all  His  heart  o'erflows  : 
He  hears  not— heeds  not— tho'  infuriate  be 
His  foes :  but  views  afar  the  bright  futurity. 

XXII. 

By  Galilee's  proud  tetrarch  set  at  nought — 

(A  murderer  to  Judah's  King  preferred,) 
Seated  upon  His  throne  of  holy  thought, 

With  soul  unmoved,  He  answered  not  a  word. 

Tlio'  many  lying  witnesses  averred 
Things  that  He  know  not :  meek  in  majesty. 

As  tho'  their  cruel  slanders  all  unheard- 
He  stands  in  wrapt  communion ;  witli  an  eye, 
And  brow  superior,  fixed  in  heav'nly  trance  on  high. 

7* 


77 


f 


'li 

P 


78 


THE  CROSS. 


XXIIL 

They  smite  Iliin  on  tlic  lioad — the  Living  Lord  ! 

Arrayed  in  smilc;s  of  blessed  humility. 
They  spit  npou  Him,  as  a  thing  abliorred, 

And  worsliip  llim,  in  solenm  mockery  ; 

In  seeming  adoration  !)cnd  the  knee, 
lleav'n!  slee]);-  lliy  thimder?  does  thine  awful  knell — 

Vengeance  Omnipofrnt !  o'er  land  sea, 
Crushing  the  scoITlts  down  to  deepest  hell — 
Loud  us  th'  archangol's  trump,  its  peals  indignant  swell  ? 

XXIY. 

Htourj^.djspit  on,  crowned  with  thorns,  smote, wronged,  reviled. 

Robed  in  derii-ion's  garb,  our  Lord  we  view  : 
Superior  still  lie  stands,  in  meekness  mild, 

Nor  wears  a  frown.     What  more  can  malice  do  ? 

A  deadlier  ])urposc  yet  their  hearts  pursue. 
'•Away  with  such  a  fellow  !  crucify — 

"His  blood  be  on  our  heads,  our  children  too." 
'Let  him  not  live  another  day !'  they  cry ; 
And  wretched  Pilate  yields,  nor  dares  their  will  deny. 

XXV. 

Hark !  from  Jerusalem  a  voice  of  woe 

Bursts  on  the  ear.    It  is  the  wailing  crv 
Of  faithful  hearls,  that  dread  affliction  know, 

To  sec  their  Master  led  along  to  die. 

Ye  mournful  band !  behold  the  hour  is  nigh. 
Like  a  pierce  swelling  flood,  the  hostile  throng 

Sweeps  from  the  gate ,  with  shouts  that  pierce  the  sky — 
Tumultuous — with  contumely  and  wrong,     •    • 
They  urge  their  victim  on,  goading  His  steps  along. 


CALVARY. 


79 


'viled 


XXVI. 

Onward  lie  fares — bearing,  without  a  groan, 

Tlie  burden  of  His  Cross  to  Calvary  ; 
His  bleeding  foet  are  torn  by  gravel-stone, 

With  stripes  His  back  all  mangled  cruelly  ; 

Totters  beneath  the  weight  each  languid  knee. 
With  weak  exhaustion  bent :  Hia  brow  is  faint. 

Like  lamb  unto  the  slaughter  led  is  He  ; 
Bearing  reproach — along  without  complaint 
He  meekly  moves :  while  none  His  bosom-woes  can  paint. 

xxvn. 

Hark  to  the  hammer's  sound,  whose  heavy  dint 

Deep  thro'  tlie  tender  flesh  the  nails  impels  ! 
See  how  the  spikes  those  hands  and  feet  imprint 

With  wounds,  while  down  a  crimson  current  swells  ! 

See — and  when  Sin  her  tale  alluring  tells, 
Behold  the  Cross ;  ana  think  vvhit  Jesus  bore 

For  thee,  and  tremble.    While  thy  heart  repels 
Her  wiles  delusive — go  and  sin  no  more : 
But  love  and  scn'e  thy  Lord,  till  life's  brief  day  be  o'er. 

X  xxviir. 

High  on  the  Cross,  behold  yon  bleeding  form. 

Mocked  by  the  multitude  with  hellish  spite. 
Wide  waves  around  a  sea,  o'er  which  the  storm 

Of  various  feelings  swell  w'ith  fearful  might ; 

As  sweeps  the  tempest  o'er  the  mountain  height. 
Rending  the  forest.    Let  within  thee  reign 

Deep  awe,  my  soul !  contemplating  that  sight : 
Welcome  reproach,  and  toil,  and  grief,  and  pain — 
Think  on  thy  safTring  Lord,  nor  let  his  wounds  be  vain. 


A  f-i 


80 


THE    CKOSS 


I 

ii  J 

I 
I 


XXIX. 

Clouds  come  upon  the  heav'ns,  in  dense  array, 
Like  legions  to  the  battle.    From  the  sky 

Their  black  battalions  chase  the  king  of  day  : 
And  ever  and  anon,  blasting  the  eye — 
Flings  the  red  bolt  its  burning  flashes  nigh. 

Onward— still  on — like  troubled  torrent's  wave, 
]3usk  masses  move,  up  to  the  zenith  high  : 

Tiil  earth  liecomes  dark  as  the  gloomy  grave  ; 

And  ne'er  before  her  realms  such  signs  of  sufTring  gave. 

XXX. 

'Tis  the  sixth  hour.    Death  liath  his  flag  unfurled 

On  Calvary.    No  tempest  waves  its   ring — 
Silence  as  of  the  tomb  is  on  the  world. 

It  seems  the  hour  doth  sense  and  reason  bring 

Even  to  nature's  most  inan'mate  thing ; 
While  horror  holds  thon  in  its  grasp  spell-bound. 

The  mountain  stream  forbears  its  murmuring ; 
The  cataract  leaps  down  without  a  sound : 
And  silence,  as  a  deluge^  rol's  its  voiceless  tide  around. 

XXXI. 

Palled  with  the  mighty  gloom,  the  skies  are  black, 

'    And  fun'ral  shadows  brood  upon  the  sea  ; 

No  ship  upon  the  deep  its  course  can  track : 
The  pilot,  pausing,  upward  fearfully 
Turns  hi^  mute  gaze.    On  Lebanon,  the  tree 

Whose  giant  form  for  ages  bore  the  blast. 
In  shudd'ring  terror  ",  rithes  its  branches  free ; 

And  falling,  groans  in  agony  aghast ; 

OnCarmel  rocks  are  rent — yawn  wide  its  caverns  vu6t. 


Vf^W^'-lf'W 


iJ.H>4|iBW  Wf.  f  »  •"»  -tilJW-  'V  i  WC'^l  - 


THii  EAKTHQUAKE. 


. «.:.((« ij),.„«(i 


8* 


XXXII. 

Ocean,  too,  summons  to  th'  embattled  coast 

Might  of  o'erwhelming  waves  :  tho'  not  a  breatli 

Bo  stirring  o'er  the  expanse  of  that  huge  host ; 
That  sullenly  sweeps  on  to  shores  of  death, 
Savage,  yet  silent  all.     Around — beneath — 

Sits  expectation.     Earth  and  air,  and  sea, 
Seem  fettered  by  tlie  chain,  Vv'hose  links  enwreathe 

The  overburdened  heart ;  that  heavily, 

Droops  'neath  the  weight  of  awe,  and  matchless  mystery. 

xxxm. 

ilark  I  hear — 'v'lile  bows  Ilis  meek  submiusive  liead— 
The  Saviour  breathes  His  last  confiding  prayer  ; 

Hear  Him  aloud,  ere  life's  faint  spark  be  fled, 
(^ry  "It  is  finished."    Howlings  oT  c'ljs^'air 
Echo  from  hell :  while,  thro'  th;j  upper  air,  • 

A  thousand  harps  struck  by  the  heav'nly  host. 
Harmoniously  responding  vibrato  there. 

Wide  waves  yon  sea  of  heads,  as  tempest-tossed 

The  bill'wy  main.  Lo  !  Jesus  now  gives  up  the  ghost. 

xxxiv. 

Outspeaks  the  Earthquake,  (while  loud  tluuiders  thrill,) 

With  its  terrific  roar  :  whose  echo  swoops, 
Like  knell  of  ruined  worlds,  o'er  plain  and  liill : 

Making  the  earth,  that  now  not  mutely  weeps, 

Tremble  to  its  foundation.    Ocean  keeps 
Silence  no  more  !  but  (like  stupendous  wall,) 

High  as  theheav'ns  upl  fted,  overleaps 
All  bound — while  mighty  deep  to  deep  doth  call : 
Then,  as  with  weight  of  worlds,  on  prostrate  earth  doth  fall. 


82 


THE  CEOSS. 


XXXV. 

The  temple's  veil  is  to  the  bottom  rent- 
Rocks  shattered— th'  earthquake  in  his  wratli  strides  by  : 

Down  to  tlie  cliarnel-vault  blue  lightnings  sent, 
Blaze  round  the  corse's  brow  ;  wiioso  livid  eye 

'   Starts  into  life,  with  wild  intensity. 

The  sheeted  dead  arise :  Creation  reels, 

With  shudd'ring  liorror — pale  the  sick'ning  sky  ; 

Tiie  mighty  shock  earth  to  its  centre  feds : 

Incessant  streams  of  death  the  thunder-cloud  reveals. 

XXXVI. 

^^'Tisfinhlied!"'  as  beneath  t'le  pillars  t'vain, 

Triumphantly  did  Samson  bow  ii;  (ioath  ; 
Siu'spoiv'r  and  enmity  at  once  were  slain. 

When  Jesus  on  the  Cross,  resigned  Ilii  breath. 

Crown  Ilim,  Eternity  !  with  coiiq'ror's  wreath  ; 
Rejoice  0  Earlh,and  Ilcav'n !  the  vict'ry's  won  : 

Hell !  tremble  in  thy  gloo;ny  gulf  bcnoatli. 
Ruler  Omnipotent!  behold — Thy  Son, 
Crushing  the  serpent's  head,  hath  rescued  Man  undone. 

XXXVII. 

Stern  stood  a  rugged  soldier,  in  his  pride  ; 

Nor  trembled,  when  all  round  gave  signs  of  fear  : 
Contemptuously,  in  scorji,  the  people  eyed. 

But,  when  the  Saviour's  dying  hour  drew  liear — 

When  quaked  die  universe,  in  duvkncss  drear  ; 
Remorse  imi)lanted  in  his  soul  its  tooth  : 

Like  lightping-flashes did  conviction  sear. 
His  heart — tho'  steel — was  touched  with  tender  ruth  ; 
And  witnessed  well,  tho'  late,  to  Hoav'n's  eternal  trutii. 


^ 


'^  w 


^•»wa*?r"Kj?^?3?jH^^^* 


, 


THE  CENTURION. 


83 


XXXVIII. 

"  TVils  was  the  Sonqf  Gou  !"     The  saying  fell, 

As  light  from  heav'si;  on  the  bewildered  crowd  : 
Thrilled  hearts,  responsively,  innum'nible. 

The  meek  disciples — by  affliction  bowed 

See,  at  t!iy  word,  effulging  from  its  cloud, 
Hope's  star     '  ■  ir  skies  no  longer  on  them  lour. 

And  man_>  '  >  ilis  name  allegiance  vowed, 
Who  owned  another  master  till  that  hour ; 
But  nov;  shake  off  their  bonds,  and  prjiise  Redeeming  powV. 

XXXIX. 
Von  Head — how  droops  it  in  abandonment,    - 

Death's  dereliction !  how  each  limb  doth  show 
The  languor  left,  when  life's  last  string  is  rent ; 

When  the  frail  flesh  hath  felt  the  final  throe  ! 

'Christian  is  ^/i/,s  thy  God  ?'  Vain  sceptic— no  .' 
"Tis  but  the  mortal  part  of  Christ  that  died  : 

Nature  Divine  nor  death,  nor  change  can  know. 
Not  long  that  form  shall  separate  abide ; 
But,  with  the  Godhead  joined,  for  aye  be  glorified.' 

XL. 

Not  to  behold  corruption  ;  tho'  the  grave 

Must  hide  a  treasure,  such  as  ne'er  before 
It  held  in  chamber  of  its  fun'ral  cave : 

Nor  yet  again  shall  hold  for  evermore. 

Three  days  that  absent  fqrm   '  all  hearts  deplore, 
That  wept  in  wonder  at  IJis  agony  : 

Then  see,  exultingly,  the  morn  restore, 
From  the  dark  tomb,  their  much-loved  Master  free ; 
No  more  to  die,  but  Confjueror  of  jpow'rless  Death  to  be. 


# 


84 


t'Sf.) 


THE  ChOSS. 


XLI. 


Gone  is  the  gloom.    That  awful  period  passed, 

The  congregated  clouds  disparting  flee : 
And  lo !  the  ruler  of  the  day  hath  cast 

His  mantle  from  him  ;  and  o'er  land  and  sea, 

Looks  from  his  throne,  in  sov'reign  royalty  : 
With  liglit  of  living  gold  creation  steeps. 

Yet  all  looks  strange — horror  of  mystery 
Still  darkens  nature's  eye  :  that  wildly  keeps 
Its  stony  glance  of  fear  ;  and  neither  smiles,  nor  weepa. 

XLTI. 

'7'is  fuiii^hed!  Lo!  the  solemn  Sabbath  eve 

Steals  o'er  the  world.     The  spear  that  side  hath  torn'— 
The  multitudes  the  scene  of  sufT'ring  leave  : 

All  save  yon  band,  which  yet  remain  to  mourn ; 

Deep  sunk  in  sadness,  yet  not  quite  forlorn. 
Alternate  hope  and  fear  within  them  rise — 

Now  seeming  as  by  sorrow  overborne, 
They  downward  droop  :  then  faith  with  bright'uing  eyes, 
Looks  thro'  the  veil  of  tears ;  and  precious  balm  supplies. 

xLin. 

'Tis  night — the  skies  with  more  than  wonted  gloom 

Are  vested.     Earth  beneath  the  dismal  shade 
Of  tenfold  darkness,  cheerless  as  the  tomb, 

Sinks  to  her  sleep  ;  the  sun  his  couch  hath  made 

In  cradle  of  the  deep  ;  with  grief  decayed, 
The  winds  enwrap  the  moon  in  sable  shroud ; 

In  melancholy  dreams  is  nature  laid : 
Slumber  the  stars — eacli  on  its  pill'wy  cloud  ; 
The  heav'nsj  o'er  Jesu's  grave,  in  speechless  woe  are  bowed, 


THE  THIRD  DAY. 


XLIV. 


n 


Why  sleep'st  thou,  Earth  ?  thou  Moon — ye  starry  fires  ? 

Nature !  why  sleepest  thou  ?  behold  yon  grave ! 
Why  wake  ye  not  and  weep  ?    Hate  never  tires — 

Tho'  weariness  of  woe  may  slumber  crave — 

But  wakes  and  watches.    Armed  with  spear  and  glaive, 
Tlie  torch-light  streams  o'er  steel-girt  warriors  round  ; 

That,  vigilant,  the  entrance  to  yon  cave 
Guard : — while  witliin,  in  trance  of  death  profound, 
The  Saviour's  breathless  form  angelic  hosts  surround- 

XLV. 

Comes  Morning,  with  her  spell,  upon  the  earth, 

Waking  the  sleeper  with  the  song  of  bird  : 
Nature  is  steeped  in  dew  of  heav'nly  birth ; 

Ocean  from  slumber  hatli  his  billows  stirred ; 

The  flow'ry  grass  is  cropped  by  flock  and  herd. 
AH — all  looks  glad.    Morning  !  how  canst  thou  smile  .' 

Nature  !  why  is  the  bird's  sweet  music  heard  ? 
Why  rove  abroad  the  flocks,  devoid  of  guile ; 
When  lies  that  sacred  form,  in  darkness  drear,  the  while  1 

XLVI. 

How  press  the  heavy  hours  upon  the  heart, 

Like  an  eternity !  how  lingers  time ! 
How  tediously  the  lagging  moments  part, 

In  their  slow  flight !  But  lo !  tlie  eastern  clime 

Blushes  with  dawning  of  a  day  sublime : 
And  brighter  than  yon  sun,  whoso  liquid  gold 

Decks  with  a  dazzling  doKige  morning's  prime ; 
Ascending  from  the  tomb,  behold — behold 
The  Lord  of  life,  again,  His  glorious  face  unfold ! 


i 


89 


THK  CROSS. 


XLVII. 

Hence !  melancholy  doubt,  and  sad  suspense; 

No  more  yon  blissful  band  your  grief  shall  know : 
Love,  gratitude,  and  wonder,  all  dispen.se 

Their  thrilling  joy  ;  and  bid  each  heart  o'erflow. 

This  is  a  joy  their  souls  shall  ne'er  forego — 
Yd  not  to  ihcm  its  gladness  be  confined : 

But  Saviour !  on  our  souls  its  balm  bestow  j 
Siill  be  the  mom'ry  of  thai  morn  enshrined 
Deep  in  the  inmost  heart,  thru'  all  its  fibres  twined. 

XLVIII. 

'Tis  finished.    Nought  remains,  on  earth,  to  do 

For  man's  Redemption.     Cluist  His  work  hath  done  ; 
Paid  is  the  ransom — debt  no  longer  due : 

Death — Satan  conquered ;  priceless  vict>y  won. 

Man  !  play  ihj  part — sin's  snares  delusive  shun  ; 
Choose  life ;  trust  in  the  strength  of  God  alone  : 

The  race  for  Heav'n  with  patient  vigour  run. 
Hourly  seek  help  from  Him  upon  the  Throne  ; 
And  let  thy  steadfast  faith  by  holiest  life  bo  shown. 

XLIX. 

Repent — believe — love  God  with  all  thy  soul, 

Hea  rt,  spirit,  strength ;  keep  conscience  undefiled : 
Hardness  endure ;  thy  passions  proud  control  5 

Firm,  bold,  courageous,  humble,  patient,  mild. 

Be  anger  from  thy  spirit  far  exiled ; 
^feek,  merciful,  yet  brave,  thy  Saviour  serve  ; 

Walk  with  the  wise;  let  folly  wander  wild : 
Ponder  thy  path — to  crooked  ways  ".e'er  swerve  ; 
From  wicked  deeds,  and  words,  thy  guarded  soul  prceerre, 


■TiWf'W,W^' 


EXHORTATIONS. 


87 


Thy  neighbour  lovo.    Upon  the  waters  cast 
Thy  bread  ;  and  let  thy  wool  the  naked  warm  : 

Plead  for  the  widow — shelter  from  the  blast 
Tlie  homeless  orphan  ;  vengeful  strife  disarm 
With  words  of  peace.    Do  good  to  all ;  and  harm 

To  none — not  e'en  the  worm  before  thy  feet. 
Love  be  tlie  master-spring — the  secret  charm'— 

The  mighty  motive  to  obedience  meet ; 

And  gratitude  a  spoil  of  gentle  influence  sweet. 

LI. 

Do  this — and  more.    Yet,  when  thine  all  is  done, 
But  proailess  and  void  thyself  esteem : 

For  refuge  to  the  wounds  of  Jeaus  run; 
.Seek  of  His  precious  blood  the  healing  stream  : 
Trust  in  mere  man  a  vain  dependence  deem. 

Thy  works,  as  fruit  of  faith,  will  be  received  ; 
Christ  has  atoned — all  else  is  but  a  dream : 

The  soul  is  justified,  which  hath  believed; 

And  from  the  curse  of  sin,  at  once,  by  faith  retrieved. 

LII. 

A  man  once  built  a  house — digging  full  low— 
And  founded  it  on  rock.    The  floods  arose, 

The  stream  with  fury  beat,  the  storm  did  blow  ; 
The  elements  thcfir  utmost  rage  disclose : 
It  trembled  not,  nor  fell.    E'en  such  are  those, 

Who  found  their  faith  upon  the  living  Rock. 
No  shuddering  the  steadfast  spirit  knows  ; 

But  strongly  overbears  the  tempest's  shock  : 

All  else  is  sliding  sand,  that  yields  to  feeblest  stroke. 


! 


I 


■ml^^t 


M 


H 


m'\ 


ri 


1; 


ss 


THE  CROSS. 


LIII. 

Come  to  the  Saviour ;  ye  who,  wearily 

Drooping  along  life's  road  with  care  oppressed, 
A  brighter  world  than  this  desire  to  see  : 

Where  troubles  cease,  the  weary  are  at  rest. 

Oh !  seek  the  consolation  of  His  breast ; 
Whose  heart,  for  man,  with  boundless  love  o'erflows  : 

Come  each  to  Him,  a  not  unwelcome  guest ; 
And,  on  His  bosom,  quite  forget  your  woes. 
He  only  can  give  rest — the  spirit  sweet  repose. 

LIV. 

Wearied  and  heavy-laden,  at  His  feet 
Fling  down  your  burdens — all  your  anguish  throw ; 

Nor  fear  from  Him  a  harsh  repixlse  to  meet : 
Not  unrelieved  from  thence  shall  any  go- 
But  pardon,  and  reprieve,  the  sinner  know ; 

And  happiness,  and  love,  each  bosom  fill. 
All  are  invited — none  rejected.    Lo ! 

His  hands  are  opened  wide  :  and  all,  at  will, 

May  share  His  bounteous  gifts ;  and  find  a  welcome  still. 

LV. 

Fly  to  the  Saviour — let  not  fear  benumb. 

Christ  has  declared — ^"Whoever  comes  to  Him, 
Shall  not  be  cast  away."    Therefore  we  come 

To  thee,  the  Living  God !  From  darkness  dim, 

Where  shadows  as  of  death  around  us  swim  ; 
High  to  the  realm — where  the  archangels  prone 

Fling  down  their  starry  crowns ;  and  seraphim, 
In  adoration,  bend  before  the  Throne — 
We  come,  with  all  our  woe,  trusting  in  Christ  alone. 


SATAN  AND  DEATH  DEFIED. 


LVI. 


t9 


Proud  potentate  !  in  ill,  supreme  and  worst, 
Satan  !  thou  vainly  tri'st :  our  help  is  near. 

Go — howl  in  hell  tliy  blasphemies  accursed ; 
And  bid  congenial  friends  thy  ravings  hear : 
Omnipotence  is  nigh — we  know  not  fear. 

Safe  in  the  hollow  of  Ilis  hand,  we  smile 
(When  thou,  and  thine,  to  check  our  couroc  appear,) 

At  all  thy  mahce,  mockery,  and  guile. 

Hide,  'ncalh  tlie  liissing  wave,  tliy  loathed  aspect,  vile ! 

LVII. 

And  thou — whoso  mortal  shaft  did  never  err — 

Misfoatured  phantom,  with  the  hollow  eyes  ! 
Seated  upon  thy  tlirone  the  sepulchre, 

With  BuUon  voice  still  mutt'ring  mysteries  ; 

Dreaming  that  man  for  aye  should  be  thy  prize: 
Thine  empire,  like  thy  victims,  finds  a  tomb. 

Wliero  now  are  all  thy  boasted  victories  ? 
With  woo,  those  orbs  a  ghastlier  glare  assume. 
Ilenco—hcnce  !  go  hide  thy  hideousness  in  outer  gloom. 

LVIII. 

Vile  spectre  cf  the  grave  !  dost  thou  deride, 
And  think  the  Saviour's  triumph  to  annul  ? 

With  lank  jaw  laughing  at  vain  mortals'  pride. 
Still  glax-e  those  eyeless  orbs,  of  malice  full  ? 
Around  thy  rattling  bones,  and  sightless  scull, 

Still  weaves  the  warp  of  hell  thy  garment's  grain  , 
Yet — yet,  methinks  thy  glories  show  but  dull. 

Thine  was  a  fearful  deed,  when  Christ  was  slain : 

But  lo !  He  cornea — thou  di'st ;  while  He  shall  ever  reign. 


<«<w.«lll  «■«■ 


90 


THE   CROSS. 


LIX. 

Doad,  buried,  ris'n,  enthroned  above  tlie  sky, 
Our  Advocate  and  Judge — at  Ilis  right  hand, 

Til '  Eternal  Father's— IMcdiatorliish, 

Still  doth  He  plead  for  man.     Around  Him  stand 
Th'  encircling  hosts  of  hcav'n  :  the  saintly  band 

Worship  with  honours  due.     Accomplislicd  ycr.rs 
firing  on  the  era  ;  when,  willi  mild  command, 

Imnianuel  f^liall  dry  His  people's  tears  ; 

And  Salem,  'ncath  His  su-oy,  for(Tct  her  wors  ai:J  ftars. 

LX. 

A  tlionsand  years,  the  prophets  erst  foretold, 
Messiah  over  earth  should  peaceful  reign ; 

A  tlioui-and  years  the  world  His  sway  behold  ; 
All  lands  forget  their  agonies,  and  pain : 
When  Satan,  bound  with  adamantine  chain. 

No  more  should  hurt  upon  His  holy  hill ; 

Good  will,  and  peace,  possession  sliovild  maintain 

Of  human  licarts :  and  boundless  l)lcssinF  fill — 

E'en  to  o'erflowing — earth,  unmixed  with  aught  of  ill. 

LXI. 

Tliis  Sabbath  of  release,  era  sublime 

Of  rest  and  liolincss,  draws  on  apace. 
Yet  ere  it  visits  earth — that  sacred  time — 

Shall  unbelievers  vex  the  sons  of  grace ; 

And  War  once  more  uplift  his  horrid  face, 
Stern  frowning  upon  Zion  :  all  in  vain  ! 

For  Jesus  comes  to  rout  tlie  fiendish  race, 
And  faithless  men.    Upon  the  battle-plain, 
Methinks  I  hear  a  voice ;  which  sings  this  martial  strain. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  DECISION. 


I. 


91 


'Sound  yc  the  tvumpct  for  God  and  for  Zion  ! 

Tlnindor-cloudii  sweep  o'er  Jehoshaphat's  vale  : 
Warriors,  av.'ake  !  'lis  the  voice  of  the  Lion — 

Lion  of  Judah — that  swells  on  the  gale. 

2. 

Judah  !  awalce  from  the  trance  of  thy  slumber; 

Souls  of  the  mighty  !  arise  from  your  sleep  : 
Burst  ye  the  bonds  that  your  spirits  encumber  ; 

Onward!  roll  on,  like  the  surge  of  the  deep! 

3. 

iiultitudes  tlirong  in  the  Vale  of  Decision  ; 

Fearfully  bright  is  their  battle  array  : 
Drained  by  their  draughts,  thy  dark  waters,  old  Kishon  I 

SwoU'u  by  the  winter — have  vanished  away. 


Ilark  to  the  tread  of  the  faithless  advancing  I 
Prophets  !  they  trample  the  land  of  your  birth  : 

Hark  to  the  tramp  of  the  battle  steeds  prancing  ! 
Shake  to  thy  centre,  thou  firmly-based  earth  ! 

6. 

Kot  at  the  threats  of  that  host  be  thou  sliaken ; 

At  pomp  of  their  proud  legions,  tremble  not  thou : 
Field  'gainst  His  foes  hath  Iramanuel  taken ; 

Earth,  with  its  pow'rs,  at  His  presence  must  bow. 


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92 


THE   CROSS. 


6. 

ComosHo  to  conquer, archangels  attending; 

Burst  of  the  lightninir-cloud  heralds  His  way : 
Duwn-itar  of  bc^auty,  o'er  Zicu  descending, 

To  her  sad  mourners  he  brings  a  blessed  day. 


Hcav'n  opens  wide  its  hij-^h  gates  everlasting : 

Behold  Him,  on  white  horse,  The  Faithful  and  Tiue  ! 

With  eyes  like  the  fire-flcrne  a  stern  glory  casting, 
Behold  ilini — a  monarch  majestic  to  view  ! 

8. 

Crowns  on  His  head,  and  with  kingly  attire  on,  J^ 

He  comes  as  from  Bozrah,  with  scourge  and  with  rod  ; 

With  robes  rolled  in  blood,  and  with  sceplro  of  iron  ; 
The  wine-press  to  tread  of  the  fierccncas  of  God. 

Hark  to  the  trump,  and  the  signal  of  slaughter  ! 

Thunders  of  battle  are  pealing  afar : 
Death  rages  wild  ; — and  his  dark-winged  daughter. 

Terror,  stalks  wide  in  her  vcstmonLs  of  war. 

10. 

Carnage  rules  there ;  and  the  eye  of  the  vulture 
Glares  thro'  the  gloom,  as  it  deepens  o'erhead. 

Beasts  of  the  desert  i  in  gha^tly  sepulture- 
Give  ye  a  grave  to  the  newly  fall'n  dead. 


ARMAGEDDON.  9) 


11. 


Flashes  the  falchion— the  strong  armour  shattered, 
Mighty  ones  fall ;  and  Earth  foams  with  a  flood  : 

At  blast  of  His  nostrils,  the  foemen  are  scattered  ; 
The  war-steeds  wade  on,  to  the  bridles  in  blood. 

12. 

Tempest  and  storm,  from  their  prison-house  rushing, 
Blend  with  huge  hail  in  its  fearful  descent : 

Th'  earthquake  convulsively  myriads  is  crushing ; 
Mountains  and  rocks  at  His  presence  are  rent. 

13. 

'# 

Lightning-bolts  beam  ;  and  the  lustre  they  shed  on 
Fields  of  the  slauglitor,  shoots  back  to  the  sky. 

Valley  of  death  !  thy  deep  shades,  Armageddon  ! 
Burn  with  the  blaze  His  foes  view  but  to  die. 

>  14. 

Tophet !  enlarge  thee — extend  thy  dread  border : 
Gape,  black  Gehenna !  with  yawnings  more  wide. 

Battle  svv^eeps  on  : — but  in  direst  disorder, 
Rolla  o'er  thy  dark  gulf  the  rage  of  its  tide. 

15. 

Woe — woe  to  man,  wlicn  he  strives  with  his  Maker ! 

Pow'rless  and  feeble,  he  fights  but  in  vain : 
Vengeance — in  victory — burncth  to  slake  her 

Blood-seeking  thirst,  in  the  gore  of  the  slain. 


.'9' 


I'W.'W'jiiSfn' 


94 


THE  CROSS. 


16 

Woe — woe  to  man ;  when  unholy,  unfaitliful, 
'Gainst  his  good  Lord  he  hath  dared  Hft  his  hand. 

Vengeance  hath  slept : — but  tlie  day  of  her  vvratliful 
Anger  id  come  ;  and  how  then  shall  he  stand  ? 

17. 

Strewed  in  tlio  dust — like  the  leaves  of  the  forejt, 
Mould'rlng  on  lap  of  cold  winter  away — 

IIt>st  of  the  faithful !  the  Lord  thou  adorest  ^ 

Hath  trod  down  thy  fees,  in  His  fury's  great  day.  ' 


18. 

Shout  ye  thc.^ong  of  the  Lainb  and  of  Moses  ! 

Palms  and  while  robes  to  His  foU'wcrs  are  given  : 
Apollyon  no  longer  His  people  opposes, 

Down  to  the  depths  of  tho  fi'ry  lake  driv'n. 


'M 


Jesus  hath  triumphed — glad  multitudes  hail  Him 
Victor  transcendent,  o'er  land  and  o'er  sea  : 

Conqueror  crowned,  in  His  kingdom  of  Salem, 
He  rules,  and  Ho  reigns,  o'er  His  ransomed  at:d  free. 

20. 

Glory,  dominion,  might,  majesty,  honour,  r 

Sway  universal,  to  Jesus  our  King ! 
Zicn  exults,  with  His  smile  shed  upon  her ; 

Her  courts  with  His  praise,  her  high  palaces  ring.' 


n 


*!■■< 


TRUE  GLORT. 


H 


•■* 


LXII. 

That  voice  hath  ceased  to  vibrate  on  this  ear. 

Rude  and  unworthy,  tho'  its  notes  might  seem ; 
Yet,  not  ungrateful  to  my  soul,  came  near 

Its  accents  ;  bringing  o'er  the  mind  a  dream, 

Of  days  bright  with  unclouded  glory's  beam. 
Still  haunts  this  heart  a  vision  of  the  time, 

When  love  shall  gild  of  years  the  rolling  stream; 
E;xrth,  beautiful  as  Heav'n's  elysian  clime, 
With  loveliness  be  decked,  and  majesty  sublime. 

LXIII.  ^ 

Oh  !  for  a  heart  where  holiest  love  may  dwell, 

And  light  my  being  with  a  ray  divine : 
Oh  !  for  a  heart,  where  love  unutt'rable, 

^[aking  its  home,  may  seal  me  ever  Thine. 

Saviour !  still  be  Thy  dove-like  spirit  mine  ; 
Still  let  the  mind  of  Christ  my  mind  control :  ;  • 

Still  may  the  star  of  peace  serenely  shine, 
As  morning  on  the  waters,  o'er  my  soul ; 
And  gild  the  waves  of  life,  that  darkly  by  me  roll  I 

LXIV. 

Then,  when  Thou  com'st  at  the  appointed  day, 

To  reign  above  Thy  chosen  people  'y—thcn. 
Look  lovingly  upon  my  senseless  clay  ;  <• 

And  bid  my  breathless  duat  revive  again.    » 

Dead  to  the  world,  regarded  not  by  men, 
Tlio'  now  my  name— as  in  the  silent  tomb —  .  • 

Slumbers  unknown,  obscure ;  beyond  the  ken  ' 
Of  curious  critic :— let  a  nobler  doom,      '^-'i    Vv-*^;. 
Jn  that  fast-coming  day,  my  brlght'ning  soul  illume!  Ai>?»  ;^w  hxA 


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THE  CROSS. 


i> 


LXV. 

Why  should  I  mourn — the'  darkness,  and  the  deep 

Waters  of  woe,  have  curtained  o'er  my  head ; 
Tho'  suns  of  transient  joy  have  sunk  to  sleep ; 

And  she,  of  earth  the  dearest  form,  is  fled  ? 

Tho'  vernal  flowers  lie  with'ring  on  the  bed, 
In  which,  of  late,  their  infant  buds  were  born ; 

Long  treasured  hope  in  one  sad  moment  dead  : 
Yet  am  I — am  I  but  a  wretch  forlorn  ? 
Sees  not  my  soul,  thro'  clouds,  heav'n's  blessed  eternal  morn  ? 

LXVI. 

Is  there  not  that  within  me,  which  shall  live, 
When  yonder  starry  worlds  forsake  the  sky  ? 

Sun  of  the  universe !  thy  guidance  give — 
Illume  my  darkness,  Sov'reign  Lord  on  high  ! 
Omnipotence !  thine  aid  be  ever  nigh ; 

Nor  let  the  grave  my  wiser  hope  devour- 
Lot  not  my  dust  in  dark  oblivion  lie  : 

Uphold  me  still  with  Thy  strong  arm  of  pow'r ; 

And  comfort  me,  thro'  life,  and  death's  ungenial  hour. 

LXVII. 

Oh !  that  my  spirit,  with  the  loved  of  earth, 

May  stand  before  Thee  pure,  arrayed  in  white ; 
Fresh  in  the  dew  of  its  immortal  birth  ; 

In  robe  of  righteousness,  unsullied,  bright : 

And  basking  in  the  beams  of  heav'nly  light, 
Beneath  Thy  smile,  may  we  our  voices  raise —         ' 

While  echoes  to  the  song  th'  empyreal  height ; 
Hymn  with  th'  angelic  host  eternal  praise ; 
And  with  enraptured  eyes,  upon  Thy  glory  gaze, 


mm^mi 


THE  SECOND  ADVENT. 


LXVIII. 


97 


The  hour  is  coming — on  th'  ethereal  air,  % 

I  hear  the  rushing  of  its  rapid  wing — 
When  weary  Earth  shall  Sabbath  quiet  share ; 

And  revel  in  the  rest  the  moments  bring. 

Yet,  ere  it  comes,  let  me  essay  to  sing 
Once  more,  tho'  weak,  in  unpresuming  lay, 

(Tho'  haply  to  my  hand  vibrates  the  string 
Unmusical,)  the  dawning  of  that  day; 
When  Love  Divine  its  star  shall  in  the  skies  display. 

1. 

'HosANNAH  to  the  Son  of  God !'  in  beautiful  array, 
Behold  His  heralds  on  the  hills,  ere  smiles  the  new-bom  day  ! 
In  shadow  of  the  twilight  hour,  th'  angelic  host  is  seen. 
Descending  where  the  mountain  strews  its  garb  of  vernal  green. 

;  «•   • 

And  while  they  walk  in  glory  on  the  everlasting  hills ; 
A  fragrant  dew,  like  that  of  dawn,  gently  around  distils — 
A  balmy  breeze,  like  that  of  mom,  sighs  o'er  the  verdant  steep- 
Tears,  blended  with  the  pray'rs  of  hearts,  all  tenderly  that  weep ! 


*Hosannah  to  the  Son  of  God  !'  the  promised  hour  is  nigh. 
Twas  but  a  little  syjice — We  saw  earth's  Eden  blossoms  die ; 
And  fairer  than  those  transient  flow'rs,  a  form  in  death  grew 
dim:         '  '-$;?■''       ■  ■  -^.^  •,.%? 

Nature !  thou  knewest  not  thy  Lord ;  else  hadst  thou  died  with 

Him.        '""'  ■- '^. ■"■'-■•■-'--'  ^i' .-■■■-- T '.>:>, 

9 


■  ■ 


9S 


THE    CROSS. 


4. 

'Twaa  but  a  little  space— a  brief,  yet  darkly-viaioned  hour — 
Sorrow  kept  hold  of  faithful  hearts,  with  spell  of  sadd'niog 

pow'r; 
'Twas  but  "a  little  while"  the  grave  obscured  that  wondrous  brow : 
O  Death  !  thine  was  a  fearful  deed : — but  where's  thy  vict'ry 

now  ? 


*■ 


0. 


Ethereal  fire  is  kindling  on  the  mountain's  distant  peak ; 
A  crimson  blush  is  burning  now  on  Nature's  virgin  cheek : 
Night,  with  her  gloomy  train  of  hours,  while  wends  afar  each  cloud. 
From  her  reviving  limbs  unwraps  her  melancholy  shroud. 

Mom,  as  a  mighty  flood,  o'erflows  magnificent  the  sky  ; 
E'en  as  a  spreading  ocean,  rolls  its  azure  depths  on  high : 
Crested  with  crown  of  fi'ry  gold,  each  billow  in  its  play. 
Sparkles  and  shines ;  while  floats  along  th'  empurpled  pomp  of  day. 


Whence  pours  that  mighty  ocean— mom's  magnificence  above  ? 
Whence  that  illimitable  sea,  whose  waves  rolls  on  in  love  ? 
Jesus  !  Thine  eye  sheds  glory  on  dull  earth,  that  moumed  awhile: 
The  universe  hath  kindled  up ;  and  gladdens  with  a  smile. 


«. 


•t-5 


Not  as  when  Salem  once  beheld,  with  wildering  surprise, 
Encircled  by  the  fisher  train — in  humble,  lowly  guise — 
Her  King,  the  Conqueror,  arrive :  bright  bursting  on  the  view, 
Behold  \  archangels  at  His  feet  their  starry  chaplets  strew. 


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He  cornea !  shout,  spirits  of  the  saints !  man's  eloquence  is  weak ; 
Earth's  proud  comparatives  are  vain,  His  grandeur  to  bespeak : 
Heav'n  hath  no  likeness  to  His  form,  in  star  or  radiant  sun. 
Whereunto  can  we  resemble  the  Most  Hi£,h,  th'  Eternal  One  ? 

10. 
Praise  Him,  majestic  Ocean !  with  the  choral  shout  of  waves ; 
Mountains !  His  Name  ro-echo  from  your  deep-resounding  caves : 
ThundersJ  with  your  tremendouG  voice,  His  praise  sublimely  sing: 
Jehovah  comes  to  rule  and  reign — Hosannah  to  our  King ! 

LXIX. 
Now  turn  we  to  contemplate,  O  my  soul ! 

The  final  scene — that  great,  deciding  day — 
When  Earth  and  Time,  shall  reach  their  final  goal ; 

The  skies,  as  shrivelled  scroll,  vanish  away : 

Ascending  from  their  tombs,  beneath  the  ray 
Of  bright  Eternity,  the  dead  shall  tend 

To  the  great  judgment-seat ;  and  Him  survey, 
Before  whose  throne  all  worlds  must  subject  bend : 
Of  man  th'  unerring  judge,  the  contrite  sinner's  friend. 

LXX. 

Nor  let  this  meditation  profitless 

Prove  unto  thee,  my  heart !  but  deeply  traced, 
Within  the  chamber  of  thy  dark  recess. 

Still  be  that  scene — from  mem'ry  ne'er  effaced ; 

Warning — but  not  condemning — 'gainst  the  waste 
Of  life's  so  transient  hour,  with  utt'rance  deep       *    « 

Speak  to  my  soul :  for  time  by  sin  disgraced,  41^ 

Wake  penitence ;  and  warn  her  aye  to  keep  f 

Her  garments  white  and  pure,  and  ne'er  o'er  work  to  sleep. 


100 


THE  CROSS. 


A^ 


LXXI. 

Metliinks  the  books  are  opened.    Trembling  stand 

Far  to  the  left,  the  multitudes  aghast ; 
While  to  the  right,  exultingly,  a  band 

Spreads  limitless  throughout  extension  vast. 

Whiter  than  sunlit  snow  around  them  cast, 
The  Saviour's  robe  of  righteousness  I  view ; 

No  spot,  nor  shadow  of  a  stain  hath  passed 
Upon  that  beauteous  robe's  unsullied  hue  : 
Such  as  the  Saviour  is,  appear  his  foU'wers  true. 

LXXII. 

Each  sev'rally,  as  do  his  deeds  deserve, 
Shall  find  a  recompense  and  sentence  sure ; 

Not  Justice  '.ow  from  punishment  can  swerve, 
Or  Vengeance  longer  sinful  souls  endure : 
Far  to  the  right — the  holy,  just  and  pure, 

Ascend  to  tlie  empyreal  realms  of  bliss, 
For  ever  from  all  fear  of  change  secure : 

And  sinners,  driv'n  afar,  plunge  in  th'  abyss ; 

Where  Death  eternal  dwells,  undying  serpents  hiss. 

LXXIII. 

Oh !  when  that  great,  that  dreadful  day  is  come  ; 

Be  not  this  soul  of  mine,  my  Saviour !  found 
Without  a  wedding  robe,  confused  and  dumb  : 

But  brighter  than  the  sun,  be  clothed  around 

With  righteousness ;  and  beams  of  truth  surround. 
And  love,  and  holiness  and  faith,  this  soul. 

Then,  let  the  final  trump  tremendous  sound — 
>  The  firmament  shrink  up  like  shrivelled  scroll— 
And  vast  eternity  its  years  of  endless  joy  unroll ! 


#• 


4 


i 


CONCLUSION. 


101 


I.XXIV. 

Thus  faintly  have  I  touched  upon  a  theme, 

The  habitants  of  heav'n  with  wonder  scan. 
Let  not  the  hearer  it  presumption  deem, 

For  one  so  weak  to  sing  Redemption's  plan. 

The  feeblest  voice  may  cry — 'behold  the  Man, 
Who  died  the  death  for  us  on  Calvary  !' 

"Behold  the  Lamb    ^  God  !"  each  tongue  which  can, 
Aloud  should  cry ;  and  warn  all  souls  to  flee 
To  Him,  whose  blood  alone  from  endless  wrath  can  free. 

LXXV. 

Critic  !  thy  censure,  (should  this  meet  thine  ear) 
Weighs  not  with  me.    Deeply  within  is  known 

My  nothingness !  thy  frown  I  may  not  fear ; 
Nor  anxious  seek  that  smiles  to  me  be  shown : 
Approval  is  well  sought  from  Heav'n  alone. 

Love  of  the  praise  of  man  oft  brings  a  snare ; 
Fear  does  the  same :  yet — freely  will  I  own — 

Pleasing,  to  profit  all,  much  would  I  bear : 

Acceptance  with  the  good  fain  would  my  spirit  share. 

LXXVL 

O  Saviour !  now  this  hand  its  harping  stays. 

If  I  have  sung  amiss,  be  mine  the  blame  ; 
If  otherwise,  be  TmNE  alone  the  praise  : 

But  condemnation  can  my  spirit  claim — 

Mine  be  th'  unworthiness,  and  mine  the  shame. 
Yet — yet  to  me,  and  my  weak  work,  extend 

Thy  pardon  and  forgiveness :  tho'  my  name 

Be  breathed  but  with  derision — Jesu !  lend 

One  fav'ring  smile ;  lead,  and  conduct  rae,  to  life's  end. 

9* 


■^' 


**i 


103 


THE  CROSS. 


^  LXXVII. 

Then — when  the  dimness,  and  the  cloud  are  gone 

That  hang  upon  my  heart ;  when  my  cleared  eye 
Views  the  bright  world  that  Thou  for  man  hast  won ; 

When  Heav'n,  with  all  its  mysteries  on  high, 

The  glorious  vision  of  eternity. 
Bursts  on  my  soul : — then  may  I  hope  to  sing 

Such  strains  as  my  weak  pow'rs  on  earth  deny ; 
Hymning  on  golden  harp,  far  echoing. 
Immortal  praise  to  Thee,  from  each  delighted  string: 


* 


-    •# 


*A-. 


M' 


"■ji^. 


NOTES  ON   THE  CROSS. 

On  p.  53.  Book  II.  stz.  IX,  1. 
And  thou — whose  tong     long  since  is  dumb  in  death ! 
The  worshipper  of  Reason,  phrensy-driven. 
Note. — Thomas  Paine. 

On  the  same  page ;  stz.  XL  3. 
The  starry  seer — whose  soul  was  all  divine; 
Note. — Newton. 


U- 


On  p.  67.    Book  II.    stz.  XXII.  1. 
/  saw  a  den  beneath  a  burning  sky^ 
Note.— The  Black  Hole  at  Calcutta. 

On  p.  96,  Book  III.  stz.  LX  V.  4.  ^ 

And  she,  of  earth  the  dearest  form,  is  fled  1 

Note.— His  young,  beautiful,  and  amiable  wife.  For  some  brief 
notice  of  his  deep  and  lasting  sorrow  on  this  account ;  which  is 
exhibited  in  many  passages  of  his  works :  see  the  sketch  prefixed 
to  this  volume. 


^ 


ir 


'i'^ 


f^. 


'■•j«i*>.'    -''jijif^ 


HYMNS; 


AND 


Sacrcb  |)0ctn0. 


'^Serve  thi  Lord  with  gladaeti : 

Cvme  bifore  HU  imwDC*  with  tinging." 

FialiaC.I.  S 


%. 


•4 


10* 


IJ«llM»I.miW,W*<l|"p»iiiP"  W  IIBWIKIHI'?)' "»"« 


'-  ' 


K^ 


,-    (■ 


.« .•■  ■.  - 


• 


HYMNS,  ata 


"'Sirre  ih«  Lord  witli  (ladoMi : 
Cum*  Ufor*  Hi«piM«M*  with  •iD)tin{." 
Piklia  C.  a. 


HTMN    L 

1."  '  "  -    ' 

Morning  again,  with  beauteous  eye, 
Hath  looked  upon  our  pleasant  field*', 

And  rays  of  glory  shoot  on  high, 
Like  spleiidour  from  a  thousand  shields. 


Oh !  that  my  soul  were  calm  and  bright, 
As  yonder  sea's  untroubled  wave : 

Oh !  that  my  soul  were  filled  with  light, 
And  love  to  Him  who  died  to  save. 

m. 
Earth !  thou  art  beautiful:— to  me 

Beautiful  too,  thou  Sun  of  Mom ! 
That  look'st  in  lustre  on  the  sea, 

And  smil'st  above  as  newly  bom. 

IV. 

Thou  hast  a  goodly  race  to  run ; 

Thy  glorious  path  is  in  the  sky : 
Thine  is  a  steady  course,  bright  Sun ! 

Thou  wand'res9t,  wv   rest  not,  on  high. 


Wl^lWllliiiJUi 


mifmmifm^''^r 


108 


HYUNS  AND 


V. 


Oh !  that  my  soul  might  run  like  thee, 
And  surely  walk  the  heav'nly  way : 

Strengthened,  established,  settled  be ; 
And  never  wander,  never  stray. 


HTMN   II. 


I. 


Dear  twilight  of  the  west, 
How  soft  thine  hour  to  me  I 

The  sun  hath  sunk  to  rest ; 
And  smiles  are  on  the  sea. 

As  friends  at  parting  smile- 
That  sweetness  will  not  flee ; 

But  lingers  for  a  while  :— — 
So  seems  it  now  to  me. 

n. 
Tho'  sun  be  far  away, 

The  gentle  waters  gleam ; 
And  smiles  of  gladness  play 

On  ocean's  pleasant  stream. 
Thus  fare  it,  Soul,  with  thee  ! 

Thy  sun  to  set  may  seem  : 
Glad  smiles  upon  thee  be. 

In  mem'ry  of  his  beam ! 

m. 
Yet,  yet  a  little  while. 

And  He  that  comes  will  come: 
Serenely  wilt  thou  smile, 

When  He  dispels  thy  gloom. 


SACKED   rOSMS. 


m 


w. 


Wait,  wait  His  blessed  will ; 

Bid  clam'rous  fear  be  dumb ; 
Be  firm,  be  faithful  stiU  :— 

For  He  that  comes  will  come  i 


HTIIK  III. 


I. 


The  root,  from  which  the  tree  was  bewn, 
May  boast  a  thriving  ofispring  soon ; 
And  tender  branches,  young  and  fair. 
May  wave  again  in  beauty ;  where 
The  parent  oak  once  proudly  stood. 
The  mighty  monarch  of  the  wood, 

n. 
Yea !  tho*  that  root  wax  old  below, 
That  stock  may  seoning  sapless  grow ; 
Yet,  thro*  the  scent  of  waters  near, 
'Twill  bud  ag.t. ,  and  fresh  appear. 
But  man — ^when  dead,  and  gone  from  view ; 
Where  is  he?  shall  he  bloom  anew  ? 

m. 
As  waters,  failing  from  the  sea ; 
As  floods  decayed,  and  dried  up  be- 
So  man  lies  down,  and  ne'er  shall  rise ; 
Till  gone  be  earth,  and  heav'ns,  and  skies; 
He  shall  not  wake  from  sleep  piX>found, 
While  earth  rolls  on  her  yearly  rouud.         ' 

10* 


no 


HYMNS  Ain> 


if- 


nr. 
The  mountain,  falling,  comes  to  nought ; 
The  rock  from  its  strong  base  is  brought; 
The  water  wears  away  the  stone  r 
All  things,  that  from  the  earth  have  grown, 
Are  wasted  still  away,  away ; 
And  thus  man's  worldly  hopes  decay. 

V. 

Yet  theret's  a  hope,  which  ne'er  shall  fade«» 
Tho^  man  must  lie  in  dust  decayed  ; 
Tho'  earth  be  fraiU  and  flesh  bo  grass ; 
There  is  a  life^  which  ne'er  shall  pass  ; 
And  man,  tho'  dead,  shall  live  agaia> 
And  live  in  endless  bliss,  or  pain. 

VI. 

If  Christ  have  washed  liim,  Heav'n's  his  home  ; 
The  Icwig  Eternity  to  come 
Shall  see  him  blest,  and  blest,  and  blest> 
With  nought  to  rob  his  soul  of  rest. 
If  Christ  wash  not,  his  fate  is  fixed- 
Eternal  ruin  [  wrath  unmixed  I 

vn. 
CMi !  let  us  then  be  greatly  wise. 
A  point  of  time  this  life  supplies,  v,    . 

That  our  eternal  state  turns  on :— > 
If  that  be  lost,  our  all  is  gone.  ,   , 

Let  us  that  point  of  time  secure, 
To  make  om-  hcav'nly  calling  sure.. 


SACRED   FOEMS. 


Ill 


HYMN  IV. 


What  mighty  mountain,  tow'ring,  vast, 

Rises  to  bar  my  onward  way  ? 
What  gkomy,  fearful  chasm,  is  cast 

Across  the  path  in  which  I  stray  ? 

ir. 
And  thousand  foes,  in  arms,  advance 

Adown  that  steep  and  narrow  pass  ; 
And  arrows  gleam  with  fi'ry  glance, 

Snakes  spring  from  'neath  the  stunted  grass. 

m. 

I  low  can  the  traveller  essay 

To  combat  'gainst  such  fearful  odds  7 
Weak  fool !  fear  not — hold  on  thy  way  : 

Thy  help  is  sure,  thy  strength  is  God'». 

'    rv. 

He  will  not  leave  thee,  nor  forsake  j 
Tho'  Earth  and  Hell  against  thee  rise : 

Tho'  flesh  may  fail,  and  spirit  quake; 
He'll  bring  thee  to  thy  home,  the  skies. 

He  will  thy  strong  deliv'rer  prove,        /     ' 
From  ev'ry  fear,  and  ev'ry  foe :  ' 

He'll  fold  thee  in  His  arms  of  love, 
And  shelter  thee  from  harm  and  woe ; 

*■/»»--  •-  |V         ,.,,..-■   .  H 

VI. 

Crown  thee,  when  all  thy  warfare's  done,  " 
With  an  immortal,  glorious  crown ; 


112 


;^i 


HTMlfS  AND 


Make  thee  joint-heir  with  His  dear  Son, 
And  sharer  of  His  rich  renown ; 


vn. 


Bring  thee  to  Heav'n's  bright  dwelling-place ; 

Bless  thee  with  all  that  Love  can  give : 
Unveil  to  thee  His  wondrous  face ; 

And  bid  thee  look  on  Him,  and  live. 


HTMK    V. 


I. 


OtJR  God  is  our  Helper,  and  shield ; 

We  fear  not  the  battle,  the  foe : 
The  sword  of  the  Spirit  we'll  wield, 

And  smite  till  the  tyrant  lies  low. 


n. 


The  tyrant,  whose  enmity  cast 

Wide  space,  'tween  our  souls,  and  their  God- 
Our  warfare  against  him  shall  last, 

Till  down  in  the  dust  he  be  trod. 


m. 


Sin !  sin,  and  his  pestilent  train, 
Have  kept  as  in  thraldom  too  long : 

We  shrink  not  from  peril,  from  pain, 
In  the  help  of  the  Lord  are  we  strong. 


IV. 


Like  soldiers  inured  to  the  war, 
The  heat  of  the  battle  we'll  brave ; 

And  carry  our  conquests  afar. 
Thro'  Him,  that  is  mighty  to  save. 


SACRED    rO£MS. 


113 


HYM»  VI. 


I. 


Father  !  I  fain  to  Thee  would  pray, 
When  morning's  star  of  light 

Smiles  o'er  the  couch  of  new-bom  day, 
With  sparkling  tear-drops  bright. 


m 


Father !  to  Thee  my  .hanks  are  due, 
Whate'er  of  good  I  prove : 

Thy  mercies  ev'ry  mom  are  new, 
Fresh  tokens  of  Thy  Love ! 


in. 


I  tliank  Thee,  that  mine  eye  can  see 
Earth's  charms  of  beauty  round ; 

Mine  ear  can  hear  sweet  melody, 
Music's  delightful  sound. 


IV. 


For  gifts  of  nature,  time,  and  sense, 
I  thank  the  pow'r  that  gave ; 

For  promise  of  a  life  far  hence, 
And  bliss  beyond  the  grave. 


If  creatures  seem  so  fair  to  me, 
So  lovely,  meet  for  love ; 

What  must  the  Great  Creator  be, 
Who  sits  enthroned  above ! 


VI. 


Most  blessed  Guardian,  Father,  Friend ! 
I  thank  Thee  tor  Thy  grace  ; 


1 


« "WM  "^ipnffi^'wf^^w^  jf^mg^f^ 


!l! 


i!i 


114 


RYMNS  AND 


Thy  bounteous  Love,  that  knows  no  end  ; 
Thy  mercy  to  our  race. 


HYMN   VII. 


I. 


When  Revelation's  glorious  mom 

First  dawned  on  Earth,  with  gladsome  ray  ; 
Man's  soul  sprang  up  as  newly  born, 

Shook  off  the  dust,  in  which  she  lay  : 
Rose  from  the  dungeon  depths  of  night ; 
Revelled  in  that  ethereal  light : 
Beheld,  with  joy,  her  darkness  flown ; 
And  life,  bliss,  freedom,  all  her  own  ! 

n. 
That  God^whose  nature,  dimly  traced 

By  Reason's  eye,  she  saw  above — 
Seemed  far  beyond  her  friendship  placed ; 

Too  high,  too  great,  for  mortal's  love  : 
Throned  in  his  vastness,  pow'r  extreme, 
Monarch  most  mighty,  sole,  supreme ; 
Eternal,  boundless ;  King  of  space, 
Maker  of  Worlds,  and  Time  and  Place, 

in. 
His  strength  w^  seen  ip  all  around, 

Above,  below — in  earth  ,a»d  sky ; 
His  fearful  tjhunder  shook  tlie  ground, 

The  lightning  spake  of  Him  on  high : 
The  tempest — ocean's  mighty  swing, 
When  her  proud  waves  confess  their  King— 


8ACRED  POEMS. 


lU 


ay 


„'^ 


^m 


Plague,  earthquake,  nations'  fall  and  rise, 
All  told  Hia  Pow'r ;  were  Man  but  wise. 

IV. 

Creation,  Providence,  displayed 

His  Wisdom  too ;  tho'  much  was  dark. 
His  Moral  nature,  hid  in  shade, 

Rose  not  to  view ;  tho'  Learning's  spark, 
Struck  out  by  force  and  labour's  dint, 
Flashed  on  the  soul  like  fire  from  flint : 
And  Man  in  dismal  darkness  trod ; 
For  he  "by  wisdom,  knew  not  God.'* 

V. 

But  lo !  'tis  noon — 'tis  brightest  day  ; 

Mercy  has  bade  the  clouds  remove  : 
Behold  His  Goodness'  rich  display, 

His  Moral  nature — "God  is  Love !" 
Love  without  measure,  fathomless ; 
Which  thousand  tongues  can  ne'er  express 
Love  gracious,  bounteous,  kind,  and  true ; 
That  passeth  all  that  man  e'er  knew  ! 


HYMN  nil. 


I. 


Great  God !  let  not  an  hour  go  by, 
Without  a  pray'r  to  Thee ; 

Were 't  but  the  breathing  of  a  sigh, 
The  spirit's  incense  free : 


II. 


Were't  but  the  groan  that  inly  swells, 
For  sin,  and  guilt  abhorred  ;  ^ 


no 


BYMRS   AND 


The  motion  of  a  thought  that  tells, 
We,  too,  have  pierced  our  Lord. 


HYMN  IX. 
,1. 

Who  are  these  in  bright  array, 

With  faces  fixed  tow'rd  Canaan ; 
Who  tread,  thro'  deserts  wild,  the  way. 

The  narrow  way  to  Canaan  ? 
'Pilgrims  we,  and  seek  the  land. 

The  promised  land  of  Canaan ; 
Soldiers,  too,  a  royal  band, 
And  marching  on  to  Canaan. 
Saviour !  blest  Saviour ! 
Do  Thou  conduct  to  Canaan, 
Be  Thou  our  guide,  our  strength,  our  all, 
Till  we  arrive  in  Canaan. 

n. 
We  must  toil,  and  we  must  fight, 

Before  we  come  to  Canaan ; 
We  must  serve  our  Lord  aright, 

Before  w^land  in  Canaan. 
Satan  hedges  up  our  path. 

Lest  we  arrive  in  Canaan : 
But  a  strong  protector  hath 
Each  traveller  to  Canaan, 
Saviour!  &c. 

m. 
Banded  fiends  oppose  our  way, 
While  we  journey  on  to  Canaan, 


ip 


SACRED  rOEMS.  117 

m.        ....  .■  .■     ./ 

And  wicked  men,  as  fierce  as  they, 

Would  stop  our  course  to  Canaan : 
But  Jesus  Christ,  the  Mighty  God, 

Himself  leads  on  to  Canaan  ; 
And  as  we  go,  His  staff  and  rod 
Will  comfort  us  to  Canaan. 
Saviour !  &c. 

Tho'  thousand  fiercest  foes  surround, 

To  shut  us  out  of  Canaan ; 
Yet  ever  let  us  ever  stand  our  ground, 

And  firmly  march  to  Canaan  : 
In  one  united,  faithful  band, 

Break  thro'  our  way  to  Canaan ; 
And  fight  for  ev'ry  inch  of  land, 

Till  we  arrive  in  Canaan. 
Saviour !  &c. 

V. 

When  mighty  tempests  are  abroad. 
And  cloud  our  view  of  Canaan; 
When  thunders  blacken  o'er  the  road. 

The  narrow  road  to  Canaan ; 
When  floods  of  fire  are  round  ua  poured,         > 

And  seem  to  compass  Canaan : 
Th'  unfailing  promise  of  our  Lord  '    •  v^ 

Shall  cheer  us  on  to  Canaan.  - 

Saviour!  &c.  ;    ^s       -  ;  ;    v  v 

VI.       ^■'-'■^•'    ■■•    ■•' 
Then  let  us  ever  watch  and  pray,  •  *    ' 

And  fight  our  foes  to  Canaan ;  ''.!•:' 

11 


** 

i^ 


^»'*j'Wipiii'ap.ii>wi.«"'flj(ipij^ 


1 


1 


- 

i 


118  HTMNS  AND 

Nor  ca8t  our  confidence  away, 

But  boldly  strive  for  Canaan : 
And  look  to  Jesus,  as  we  go, 

Thro'  flood,  and  fire,  to  Canaan ; 
And  follow  Christ  thro'  weal,  and  woe, 
Till  we  are  safe  in  Canaan. 
Saviour  !  blest  Saviour ! 
Do  thou  conduct  to  Canaan  : 
Be  thou  our  guide,  our  strength,  our  al? 
Till  we  arrive  in  Canaan.' 

HYMN  X. 

I. 
Blessed  Saviour !  make  us,  now, 
[  Such  as  Thou  delight'st  to  see : 

Holy,  just,  and  good,  art  Thou  ; 

Such  this  moment,  let  us  be. 
Make  us  pure,  and  true,  and  kind  ; 

Clad  in  perfect  charity  ; 
Kver  blessed  with  all  the  mind, 
Lord  of  Love  !  that  was  in  Thee. 

n. 
Let  us  live  witliout  offence, 

Pure  in  heart,  and  pure  in  mind  ; 
Drive  all  evil  tempers  thence, 

Let  us  be  from  sin  refined : 
Purely  purge  away  our  dross, 

All  our  inward  stains  remove ; 
Let  us  count  all  things  but  loss, 

Compared  with  Thee,  and  Thy  dear  Love. 


I 


SACRED  FOEMS. 


til. 


lit 


When  ungodly  passions  rise ; 

Say  to  the  winds,  and  waves,  'bo  calm  !' 
When  wounded  by  our  enemiea, 

Oh !  then  pour  in  Thy  healing  balm : 
When  unholy  thoughts  steal  in, 

Let  us  drive  them  whence  they  came  ; 
Keep  us  free  from  secret  sin, 

Keep — oh !  keep  us  in  Thy  name. 

IV. 

Drive  the  demon  sloth  away ; 

Might,  and  pow'r,  and  action  give  ; 
Let  us  labour  all  the  day, 

Let  us  labour  while  ,ve  live : 
Let  us  labour  in  Tliy  cause, 

Still  work  on  witJ*  fervent  z^sal ; 
Still  uphold  Thy  righteous  laws, 

Still  Thy  quick'ning  Spirit  feel. 

v. 

Never  let  us  slothful  sit, 

Wliile  oTir  work  remains  to  do ; 
Whatsoe'er  our  hands  find  fit, 

Let  us  faithfully  pursue  : 
Toil  for  Thee,  and  for  our  race — 

Serve  our  generation  still; 
Rightfully  fill  up  our  place, 

And  labour  on,  thro'  good  and  ill. 


r 


120  HrMNS  AKD 


DEATH'S  lAST  VICTORY. 

I. 

'Lo !  I  come  from  the  shades  of  Hell, 
On  my  pale  horse  mounted  well ; 
On  my  warrior-steed,  to  ride 
O'er  the  Earth,  in  her  peopled  pride. 

n. 
'Lo !  I  wander  forth  again, 
To  reap  my  final  harvest  of  men ; 
I  come  the  last  of  the  living  to  slay. 
And  glut  the  grave  with  its  destined  prey. 

m. 
'I  must  toil,  ere  the  day  be  past ; 
And  pile  of  the  dead  a  mountain  vast : 
Ere  night  looks  down,  with  startled  ey^i, 
And  the  broad  moon  blushes  red  on  high. 

IV. 

'Countless  ages  have  come,  and  gone, 
Since  first  I  girded  my  keen  sword  on : 
Numberless  years  have  rolled  away, 
Since  first  my  arm  was  lifted  to  slay. 

V. 

'But  ne'er,  since  the  primal  curse  was  sped. 
Which  peopled  my  gloomy  realms  with  dead ; 
Came  there  such  a  day  of  doom, 
To  wither  tlie  flow'rs  of  mortal  bloom. 


IS" 


■ACRED  rOEMS. 


1^ 


lU 


m& 


-I'if'i'i 


•Lo,  my  banner-cloud  in  the  sky  I 
Broadly  it  waves,  and  blackens  on  high : 
Lo,  my  standard  o'er  earth  displayed ! 
Deeply  it  darkens  the  land  with  shade. 


WO, 

•Earth  hath  often  been  scattered  with  blood  : 
But  ne'er  was  she  deluged  with  such  a  flood, 
As  shall  be  poured  to-day  by  me, 
For  this  is  Death's  Last  Victory !' 

vra. 
I  saw  him  on  his  war-steed  pale ; 
I  saw  him  scatter  his  darts  like  hail : 
His  voice  was  thunder  as  he  passed  ; 
His  breath,  tlie  pois'uous  desert  blast. 

IX. 

Onward  he  went  with,  a  gloomy  frown  : — 
I  saw  bim  smite  the  living  down  ; 
I  saw  him  slay  their  hosts  in  fight ; 
And  there  was  none  to  resist  his  might. 

X. 

There  was  none  to  cope  with  Death : 
Thousands  fell  before  his  breath ; 
Millions  sank  beneath  his  feet ; 
Shrivelled  as  grass,  in  the  furnace-heat. 

XI. 

The  lightning  bolt,  where'er  he  went. 
Gashed  the  ground  with  a  fearful  rent ; 


;U«  iwiin«.i».^iJi"Ji 


wmBr^BiF^'"m'  ■ 


123 


irfMKS  AND 


The  earth  yawned  deeply,  as  he  sped ; 

And,  closing,  swallowed  her  nrlllions  of  dead. 


xn. 


Tlie  sea  slept  not  uT^on  the  shore ; 
But  rose  on  liigh  wi'  h  deafning  roar : 
And  swept  his  tracks,  with  a  broad'ning  wave, 
And  buried  the  dead  in  a  deeper  grave. 


xin. 


The  vulture  came,  with  dismal  shriek, 
And  plunged  in  a  corse  her  rav'ning  beak  ; 
The  grim  wolf  howled  o'er  his  mangled  prey, 
And  rent  the  flesh  from  the  bones  away. 


XIV. 


But  a  sulph'rous  blast  swept  o'er  the  plain : 
And  the  wolf  lay  stiff,  on  the  shrinking  slain  ; 
And  hushed  were  the  cries  of  the  rav'ning  brood  j 
And  a  breathless  calm  o'er  tlie  earth  ensued. 


XV. 


Earth  !  the  plumes  of  thy  pride  are  rent- 
Yet  wake  not  the  voice  of  thy  last  lament. 
Nature !  ihy  goodly  fruits  are  strown  ; 
Yet  mute  be  sound  of  thy  tortured  groan. 


XVI. 


Ocean  thy  waves  may  widely  sweep — 
Yet  dumb  be  the  roar  of  thy  waters  deep : 
For  Ocean,  and  Earth— the  land,  the  sea- 
Shall  sink  ia  thy  gulf.  Eternity ! 


SACRED  POEM?, 


im 


d. 


■e, 


^y. 


)Tood ; 
i. 


DEATH  CONQUERED. 


t 


Dkeamer  !  hast  thou,  with  fancy's  eye, 
Beheld  the  dread  destroyer  nigh  ? 
Didst  fear  tlje  frown  of  his  visage  grim  ; 
And  was  tliere  none  to  cope  with  him  ? 


n. 


Dreamer !  and  hast  thou  ne'er  heard  tell 
Of  Him,  who  vanquished  both  Death,  and  Hell ; 
Who  took  from  Death  both  his  dart,  and  sting ; 
And  made  him  a  weak  and  harmless  thing  ? 


III. 


'-»»► 

il 


Come !  and  I'll  show  thee  a  royal  sight ; 
TJie  Lamb  that  bled  on  Calv'ry's  height : 
Come  !  and  I'll  shew  thee  His  wondrous  blood  ; 
That  conquers  Hell  with  its  healing  flood. 


IV. 


Come !  bow  thee  before  His  mighty  throne ; 
Where  the  highest  seraph  worships  prone, 
And  down  the  crown  of  his  glory  flings : 
For  the  Lamb  is  Lord,  and  King  of  Kings. 


V. 


He  is  thy  Lord,  and  serve  Him  thou ; 
And  fear  the  frown  of  His  awful  brow : 
For  He  alone  hath  pow'r  to  slay. 
And  cast,  in  the  depths  of  Hell,  away. 


'    ■lll^l(IL'.jll)»(H.VJF<J|l<k.I  UUW^ 


JB^I^PT?"  HH^.'li^W 


1S7 


HYMNS  AND 


vr. 


But  if  Thou  love  Him,  with  all  thy  heart; 

And  bid  all  evil  from  thee  depart : 

He'll  own  theo,  and  love  thee,  and  make  thee  blest ; 

And  bring  thy  soul  to  His  own  bright  rest. 


'THE  FOOLISHNESS  OF  PREACHING." 

I. 
Tho'  with  a  voice,  as  thousand  thunders  loud, 

The  Preacher  of  the  Gospel-news  be  heard ; 
Tho'  light,  as  flashes  from  the  lightning-cloud, 

Glances  and  glitters  from  each  pointed  word : 

n. 

Tho'  pond'roiis  triUli,  like  thunder-bolt,  be  thrown, 
With  giant's  vigour,  and  with  angel's  might : 

It  weighs  no  more  upon  man's  heart  of  stone, 
Than  down  of  feather,  touch  of  morning's  light. 

nj. 

Feeble,  and  povv'rless,  comes  its  crushing  weight, 
On  tho  rude  rock  of  man's  insensate  heart; 

As  flinty,  in  its  natural  estate, 
As  is  the  nother  mill-stone's  hardest  part. 

IV. 

Till  God's  good  spirit  breathes  on  each  dry  bone ; 

And  moulds  anew  the  chaos  of  the  breast : 
Breaks  up,  and  mollifies,  that  heart  of  stone ; 

And  makes  "the  foolishness  of  preaching"  blessed. 


imUKHf^^wmp^W 


SACRKD  POEiMS. 


125 


irt; 

ce  thee  blest ; 
est. 


IING." 

loud, 
sard ; 
cloud, 
word: 

;  thrown, 
night : 
one, 
ig's  light. 

weight, 
Ejart; 

t. 


y  bone; 

ist: 

ue; 

g"  blessed. 


V. 

"Let  there  be  light  !"    Light  rushes  like  a  flood, 
And  sweeps  the  inner  world  from  pole  to  pole : 

Germs  of  Immortal  life  begin  to  bud, 
And  deck  the  dreary  desert  of  the  soul. 

VI. 

This  crowns  the  means,  that  man  must  still  employ : — 
Heals  the  deaf  ear ;  gives  utt'rance  to  the  dumb ; 

Sight  to  the  Wind  :  tlio  lame  man  leaps  for  joy— 
The  promised  pow'r,  the  Comforter,  is  come ! 


THE  MIDNIGHT  STAB. 

1- 

Star  !  that,  in  the  loneliness  of  night, 
Beamost  with  a  pure,  unmingled,  light  • 

Star  of  beauty  !  what,  and  whence  art  thou. 
Looking,  in  thy  lustre,  thro'  the  deep 
Vapours  of  dusk  night;  that  coldly  creep, 

In  passing  dimness,  o'er  thy  fair  face  now  ? 
Art  thou  a  world,  where  blessed  souls  are  gone 
To  brighter  joys,  than  e'er  on  earth  have  shone  ? 

n. 

Star  of  midnight !  whose  untroubled  eye, 
liovcly  as  hope's  beacon-ligjit  on  high, 
Shineth  thro'  infinity  of  space ; 

Far  beyond  those  regions  of  the  sky. 
Where  the  sisters  of  the  dull  Earth  trace 

Their  illimitable  paths  on  high  ; 


r5fw»wr 


▼ 


126 


HYMNS    AND 


Alt  tlioua  sun  to  thousand  radiant  splicrcs, 
Where  happy  spirits  spend  unnumbered  years  ? 

HI. 
Liglit  of  th'  azure  lioav'ns  !  art  thou  a  sun, 
Hound  wlioso  orb  a  thousand  planets  run  ? 
Roll  a  thousand  planets,  in  their  flight, 

Round  thy  vast  immeasurable  ball ; 
Worlds  whose  loveliness  ne'er  felt  a  blight ; 

Unstained  by  sin,  unhumbled  by  a  fall : 
Where  guilt,  and  grief,  and  pain  were  never  known  ; 
Where  souls  ne'er  sigh,  nor  wounded  spirits  groan  ? 

IV. 

Shall  thy  glitt'ring  round  for  aye  endure, 
Untouched  by  time,  from  ev'ry  change  secure  ? 
If  thou  smil'st  on  an  eternal  world  ; 

If  thou,  and  thy  countless  bright  compeers, 
Ne'er  from  thrones  of  glory  shall  be  hurled, 

Down  the  deep  descent  of  by-gone  years: 
Tell  me  what  varied,  endless  joys,  are  found. 
Id  all  the  wondrous  worlds,  that  you  surround. 

V. 

Tell — oh  !  tell  me,  as  with  angels  voice — 
What  of  bliss  bids  those  glad  worlds  rejoice  : 
What  bright  roses,  what  immortal  flow'rs, 
Freshly-springing  pleasures,  there  have  birth ; 

What  fountains  gush  in  paradisal  bow'rs, 

Untouched, untainted  by  the  soil  of  earth: 
Doth  thy  great  Master  there  unveil  His  face. 
And  Jesus  walk  with  His  redeemed  race  7 


SACRED  FOEMS. 


ifr 


^  i 


vt. 

Oh  !  it  matters  not  to  me,'hovv  blest, 
Shine  those  regions  of  eternal  rest ; 
Oil !  it  matters  not,  how  goodly  bright 

Thine  elysian  ray  to  me  may  seem  : 
Without  my  Saviour,  all  the  world  were  night ; 

Ten  tliousand  suns  were  darkness,  Iloav  n  a  dream. 
It  matters  not  to  me,  thojic  worlds  how  fair ; 
With  Him,  with  Jesus — Ileav'n  Isev'ry  where  ! 

HYMN  XI. 
I. 

Man's  mighty  works  are  soon  forgot ; 

Systems,  and  sects,  grow  old  and  die ; 
Eternal  Truth  docayeth  not ; 

God's  Word,  the  Record  from  on  high. 

n. 
God's  Word  stands  forth,  in  form  sublime ; 

And'smiles  above  the  wreck  of  years: 
And,  victor  of  unconq'ring  Time, 

Bright  with  immortal  youth  appears. 

in. 
Bright, beyond  all  of  mortal  birth, 

The  splendour  of  its  glory  shows ; 
Lovely  as  when,  o'er  darkling  Earth, 

The  beauty  of  its  morn  first  rose. 

IV, 

Ages  are  lost  from  hist'ry's  chart ; 
Epochs  and  eras  fade  away  : 


'-•'ilii.fP'n^ntiv'wa" 


iiJt 


'     i!! 


138 


HYMNS   AND 


Gone,  gone  is  Time's  far  greater  part ; 
And  Earth's  hoar  head  is  silver  grey. 


V. 


Then  let  us  prize  that  light  divine, 
Which  leads  to  deathless  worlds  away. 

Bright  Sun  of  Glory !  ceaseless  shine, 
And  steep  onr  souls  in  endless  day. 


HVMN  XII. 


I. 


"Ashes  to  ashes !  dust  to  dust !" 

Will  soon  conclude  our  brief  career; 
Yet  God  shall  be  our  tow'r  and  trust, 

And  strong  defence  when  Death  is  near. 
Our  faith  is  founded  on  Thy  word, 

Thy  promises  are  sure  and  true : 
We  cast  us  on  Thy  truth,  0  Lord ! 

What  Thou  hast  promis'd,  sworn  to  do. 

m 

'Ashes  to  ashes !' — when  earth's  dust 

Lies  cumbrous  on  our  coffin's  lid ; 
Oh !  may  our  souls  reign  with  the  just, 

Our  precious  life  with  Christ  be  hid  : 
When,  in  the  grave,  each  kindred  clod 

Lies  heavy  on  our  senseless  clay ; 
Oh !  may  our  souls  be  blessed  with  God, 

In  realms  of  bright  and  wondrous  day. 

in. 
'Ashes  to  ashes !' — O  ye  great, 
Noble  and  mighty,  proud  and  high ! 


84CBED   rOEiMS. 


)9t 


ir. 


Like  men  of  poor  and  low  estate, 
Ye  soon  must  suffer,  groan,  and  die: 

Ye  soon  must  in  the  judgment  stand, 
And  hear  the  final, just,  decree ; 

With  fiendish  gang,  or  saintly  band, 
Be  classed  for  all  eternity. 

IV. 

Tremble  !  ye  proud  ones  of  the  earth. 

Nor  longer  slight  the  Saviour's  call ; 
Your  souls  must  know  a  nobler  birth, 

Born  from  above,  new  creatures  a'.l : 
Old  things  must  pass,  like  morning  dew, 

And  leave  your  souls  all  fresh  and  fai;  ; 
Cod's  Spirit  must  your  hearts  renew. 

And  rule,  and  reign,  in  brigh'ncss  tliere 


HYMN  XHI. 


I, 


III  trial,  trouble,  and  temptations, 
Darkness,  danger,  and  distress  ; 

Jesus  !  Healer  of  the  nations ! 
Let  us  trust  Thy  faithfulness. 

XI. 

Thou  canst  still  from  all  retrieve  us, 
When  our  weak  resources  fail ; 

Thou  canst  shelter,  and  relieve  us, 
From  the  windy  storm  and  hail. 
12 


■(■«^  V>|         ■   > 


"^"'ini^ir^m   wipphruih 


ISO 


HYMNS   AND 


m. 
When  rudo  doubts  my  soul  have  shaken, 

And  my  bark  is  on  the  deep  ; 
And  the  giant  waves  awaken, 

From  the  calmness  of  their  sleep ; 

IV. 

When  the  fiend  of  darkness  utters 

All  his  vniyhty  malice  Iccls — 
In  the  £Oi!rs  blut'k  midnight,  nnillcrs 
Voice,  like  echoed  thunder  peals  ; 

V. 

Wiien  that  voice  around  me  spcakctli, 
Like  the  crash  of  thunders  near ; 

And  my  spirit  wildly  sccketh, 
Rest,  and  refuge  from  its  fear ; 

vr. 

When  slcrn  horror's  chains  have  loui^';  n'  j 
Fettered,  as  with  iron  band  : — 

Jesus  breathes  a  calm  around  mo, 
Jesus  guides  my  bark  to  land. 

VII. 

Satan !  tho',  in  wrath,  thou  swoopcst 
Countless  clouds  of  dust  in  air  ; 

Pow'r  of  evil !  tho'  thou  kcepcst 
Watch,  and  ward,  to  hurt  my  pray'r; 

VIII. 

Tho'  a  thousand  tempests  darken 
Earth,  and  heav'ns,  and  sea,  and  sky :— 


gACKED   POEiMS. 


131 


Jesus  to  my  voice  will  hearken ; 
IIo  can  hear  my  foebloHt  cry. 

IX. 

Jcsns  !  O  Tiion  jjroat  Restorer 
Of  our  life,  anJ  health,  and  pc.icc  ! 

I.ook  ujion  eai'h  weak  adorer  ; 
Bid  his  bins  and  sorrows  cease. 


nVMN   XIV. 


I. 


Tiu:  mountains  have  brightened,  and  ^Morning  comes  on  ; 
Dull  Nii.fht  at  tlio  j;Iiinoo  of  Jicr  glory  is  gone  ; 
An;l  boars,  in  the  f;ir-(list;int  homos  of  tlio  west, 
'J\)  the  toiler  reposo — to  the  wearied  om\  rest. 

ir. 

On  the  mountain-based  rock,  where  the  sky  sooms  to  moot 
The  tempest-worn  earth ;  and  the  clouds  at  my  feet 
Sweep  by  me,  sweep  by  me,  on  wing  of  the  gale  :— 
I  view  thee — I  bleas  thee :  bright  Morning,  all  hail ! 

in. 
Thy  many-hued  banner  is  waving  o'erhead, 
And  radiance,  thy  first-born  of  beauty,  is  shed 
Above  me,  around  uje,  where  Nature  sits  sad : 
K'cn  the  bleak  barren  rocks  of  the  desert  look  glad. 

IT. 

O  Nature  !  thy  wonders  are  goodly,  and  great : 
But  wondrous  o'er  all,  is  the  Pow'r  could  create 


"^Hl^  'ff^'imHIBIJJIHiiiiii  4illlJJII.WJ«(»iJfl>»P'^i4"l|!J!l!!|i,.'»"-^li,»*#» 


1 1 


il 


138 


HYMRS  AND 


ri-y  ayslcn;  stupendous;  earth,  heavens,  and  sea — 
ViU).  liicir  laanifold  marvels: — how  wondrous  is  He ! 


V. 


«  )}     Iliin — I  see  Ilim !  thro'  darkness,  and  storm, 
My  so  .i],  in  her  visions,  views  dimly  His  form  : 
In  naUuv  ;  \:\  providence,  light  of  His  Word, 
I  -/J.  .o'i,  as  thro'  clouds,  but  a  glimpse  of  my  Lord. 

VI, 

d  "I'hon,  who  uplioklcst  all  things  by  Thy  pow'r  I 
'S-jIi^  SavioiT — Redeemer!  oh!  hasten  the  hour; 
Wl>ji.  Tiiy  ;.;,reatnes3,  Thy  glory,  and  goodness,  shall  b© 
5-'l'-'  Morn  in  our  souls ;  and  all  darkness  shall  flee. 

HYMN   XV. 
I. 

The  siorm  is  howling  on  the  deeps — 

How  iearfully  the  billows  break, 
*:cnoaiii  those  rude,  and  rocky  steeps ; 

Wi lere  eagle."  their  high  dwellings  make  I 

•a. 


Yet  ncL  so  high  the  eagle's  home. 
And  not  high  the  mountain's  brow» 

h  reared ;  but  that  the  ocean's  foam 

Daslies  above  its  summit  now. 


m. 


Far,  far  above  the  wild  bird's  nest, 
And  far  above  the  mountain's  height ; 

Old  Ocoan  lifts  his  giant  crest. 
Shakes  his  hos^r  head,  and  locks  of  white. 


SACRED   POEMS. 


13S 


I  sea — 
IS  is  He  I 

storm, 

1 : 

Lord. 


iv'rr 

our; 

'-# 

3SS,  shall  be 

> 

ill  flee. 

■i 

kel 


t,^ 


e. 


IV. 

Never  hatli  human  eye  hoheld 
TJie  flood  to  such  wild  fury  wrouglit : 

Tlie  rocks,  which  long  its  rage  repelled, 
Crumble  beneath  its  blows  to  nought. 

What  wondrous  Pow'r  is  that,  whose  breath 
Iluth  swept  the  waters  high  in  air  ? 

What  Pow'r  hath  moved  the  depths  bcneatli, 
And  laid  the  bed  of  Ocean  bare  ? 

VI. 

What  hand  sustains  the  earth,  wlien  crash 
The  billows  'gainst  her  crumbled  wall ; 

'Gainst  her  bare  side  the  surges  dish, 
And  mighty  deep  to  deep  dcth  call  ? 

VH. 

Nought,  but  omnipotence,  can  wield 
The  bulk  immense  of  waters  wide : 

Nought,  but  Omnipotence,  can  shield 
The  Earth,  from  rush  of  Ocean's  tide. 

vin. 
The  Pow'r.  whose  breath  has  stemmed  the  storm, 

And  swoU'n  with  fury  Ocean's  wave— 
His  hand  upholds  Earth's  tremblino'  form. 

Almighty  to  destroy,  or  save. 

IX. 

Else  had  her  massive  pillars  sank, 
Beneath  the  waste  of  waters  free : 
12* 


■A 


IJII)II^WI|  UW  J.VI)*!^'!  -W 


«w)iHi'»i'»*'»»(!*''T 


ii 


» 


i  J  * 


HYMNS  AND 

I/'cr  higliost  hills  of  Ocean  drank ; 
And  hlcpt  beneath  one  boundless  sea. 

HYMN  XVI. 
I. 

Jksus  of  Naz'reth !  lowly  name — 
Wlio  cim  but  love  Thee ;  who  but  fear  ? 

ui  ossonce,  Godhead,  still  the  same ; 
The  hour  is  come — Thy  foes  are  near. 

IL. 

Jav  wolves,  and  demons  of  the  night, 
The  jiei'Ceful  garden-walks  are  trod  : 

i;loodhotmds,  and  murderers  unite, 
To  hiiiil  Thee  dow'n,  meek  Lamb  of  God !' 

m. 
Wiiy  ^t:iml  their  shrinking  bands  aloof, 

And  yet  forbear  to  seize  the  prey  ? 
S'on  sord'.d  Judas  feels  reproof; 

And  turns  his  burning  brow  away. 

III. 
JcyuR  of  Naz'reth !  well  may  all 

Thy  jocs  be  smitten,  gentle  Lamb  ! 
Well  may  they  deeply  prostrate  fait: 

For  Tliou  art  God — the  Great  I  abu. 

▼. 
W  oil  may  their  ranks  bo  sm'tten  down, 

Tlieir  limbs  with  fear  be  iisttered  fast  :, 
For  Thou  art  God.    Jehovah's  frowit 

StQuijis  horror  on  theii  souls  aghast.. 


T 


SACRED   rOEMS. 


Iff 


VI. 


Woe  be  to  sinners — endless  woe ! 

Who  with  their  mighty  Maker  strive : 
^^"Scn  IIo,  from  hcav'n,  looks  down  below, 

i\ .-    frowns  on  men ;  who  then  can  live  ? 


vn. 


Josus  of  Naz'rctli!  Oh!  the  day, 
The  hour,  is  coming — ripens  fast : 

When  all  Earth's  sons  shall  own  Thy  sway  ; 
AU  kings  their  crowns  before  Thee  cast. 


lod 


HYMN    XVU* 


T. 


Life  is  a  w^  .iJ-  ous  tiling — 
Our  sa!;U  hov  wondrous  they! 

Man  rei^  n>    .'.  I'^^hty  king: 
lufcrioi'  n\'   ^c  owns  his  sway. 

n. 

Beasts  of  the  field,  and  birds, 

The  monsters  of  the  deep, 
Nature's  unnumbered  herds— 

C-fof^  him  bend,  and  crouch  and  creep. 

in. 
Go,  look  u^icn  his  form ; 

His  noble.  Godlike  grace : 
Nor  class  him  with  the  worm, 

With  beasts  that  perish,  reptiles  base.. 


13G 


HY3INS   lUD 


IV. 


Did  Man  but  range  the  fields, 
With  brutes  unlii^sod  og  he  ; 

Live  as  free  nature  y . 
Lie  down,  and  sleep  etcnially ; 


V. 


Did  he  but  live,  and  die, 

Ujichcered  by  reason's  ray  ; 
And  soul  that  looks  on  high, 

To  realms  of  bright  and  wondrous  day ; 


vr. 

Were  Man  but  tree,  or  stone; 
How  humble  v/cre  his  place  ! 

All  nobler  state  unknown- 
How  low  his  lot.  in  either  case  I 

vir. 
Man  !  thou  art  none  of  these — 

But  glorious,  godlike  thou; 
Monarch  o'er  land  and  seas, 

Thou  vvcar'st  a  crown  upon  tljy  brow. 

viir. 
Oh  !  then,  be  wise — to  all 

Thy  privilege  live  up: 
God  thee  to  Heav'n  doth  call ; 

He'll  to  o'erflowing  fill  thy  cup. 


<i  jpip'miiuw..  w>M>(>^pi 


SACRED   POEMS. 


187 


HYMN  XVIII. 


i 
-I 


Our  days  are  fleeting,  short,  and  few ; 

Our  earthly  Hfe  will  soon  have  passed 
Death,  mighty  reaper  !  works  in  view, 

Ready  to  cut  us  down  at  last. 


XI. 


Death,  mighty  reappr  !  grimly  stands, 
And  laughs  at  all  our  futile  cares ; 

Sways  round  his  unrelenting  hands, 
And  cuts  down  all— both  wheat,  and  tares. 


m. 


Widely  upon  Earth's  bosom  spread, 
The  human  harvest  ripens  still : 

Yet,  Lord !  ere  long,  as  Thou  hast  said. 
Angels  shall  work  Tliy  blessed  Will. 


IV. 


'My  wheat — a  precions,  golden  grain- 
Gather  in  garners  of  the  sky ; 

And  let  the  hurtful  tares  remain, 
In  noisome  heaps,  for  burning,  by.' 


V. 


But  wheat,  or  tares !  and  thus  assigned, 
To  ev'ry  soul,  its  lot  shall  bo ; 

As  sinner — saint — no  neutral  kind  : 
Hell — heav'n,  for  all  eternity. 


138 


lIVM.Na  MiD 


XI. 


Oh  I  may  svc,  at  tiial  awful  day, 
Be  gathcrul  in  Thy  garner,  Lord! 

Not  cast  like  hurlful  tares  awny ; 
But  blessed  with  Thee,  our  rich  reward. 


IJYMX  ilX. 


IIcMriLi.  and  lowly,  meek  and  mild  ; 

Free — free  from  sin,  and  guilt,  and  blame  ; 
To  God  in  mercy  reconciled, 

And  saved  by  failh  in  Jcaus'  name  : 

n. 

Humble,  tlio'  unto  heav'n  allied ; 

Lowly,  yet  of  ambition  higli ; 
Of  tow'ring  spirit,  eagle-eyed, 

Wiiich  looks  to  realms  beyond  the  sky: 

ni. 
Gentlc>  yet  of  a  burning  zeal ; 

Ardent  and  active,  filled  with  fire  ; 
Jealous  for  God,  and  Zion's  weal ; 

And  hating  sin  with  sacred  ire  : 

IV. 

Such  are  the  men,  who  bear  the  cross  ; 

Who  tread  the  path,  which  Jesus  trod  : 
Who  count  all  things  below  but  loss, 

Compared  with  Ileav'n,  and  Clirist,  and  God. 


m 


"JW'iiHW.!»«!!««|Jfipi  iM 


ard. 


lainc  ; 


ky: 


SACRED  POEMS. 


HYMX  XX. 


Begone,  tinwortliy  thought^-!  begone ; 

Nor  liaiint,  and  liurt  my  soul : 
I  must  have  Hope  to  cheer  mc  on, 

Tho'  dark  my  moments  roll. 
I  must  have  Hope's  briglit  helmet  still. 

To  wear  upon  my  head  ; 
Willi  Fiiiih,  and  I.ove,  to  shield  from  ill, 

Like  mail,  around  mo  apread. 

II. 
Begone,  injiirioug  tlioughts!  begone; 

Ilcnce,  hence,  to  v.henco  ye  came  ! 
Faith,  Hope,  and  Love  .sliall  lead  me  on  ; 

All  evil  I  disclaim. 
I  will  not  own  a  sinful  thought, 

Xor  yet  an  idle  word  : 
Oh  !  may  my  soul  v/ith  grace  be  fraught, 

Strong— strong  in  Christ  my  Lord. 


139 


nd  God. 


HYMN   XXI. 


I. 


Oh  !  what  a  gracious  God  is  ours, 
Whoso  work  we  are,  whose  name  we  love  : 

Come  life,  conio  death— come  sun,  come  show'rs- 
Ilis  goodness  beams,  below,  above. 


ir. 


His  smile  is  life  on  all  around. 

Sheds  richness  on  the  teeming  soil ; 


fl*ll^l^l|t.il|ipi   IIM.W     I  ^  ««■!  ,  JlWiJ»Wil|pjll«Bf  pimjipi       i|IM 


140 


HYMNS  AND 


With  glory,  gladness,  earth  has  crowned; 
And  blessed  with  joy  the  reaper's  toil. 


in. 


Tlie  early,  and  the  latter  rain, 

Have  strewed  with  plenty  all  our  laud ; 
The  fields  arc  bright  with  golden  grain : 

Behold !  and  bless  Ilis  bounteous  hand. 


IV. 


Why  should  we  dread  a  scanty  year, 
When  dryness  locks  the  barren  clod  ? 

Why  do  we  dream  of  famine  near? 
Jg  any  lung  too  hard  for  God  ? 


V. 

Why  do  we  droop,  and  weak  despond, 
When  barrel  fails,  and  crnse  runs  dry  ? 

Have  we  no  eye,  to  look  beyond 
Our  dreary  doubts,  to  Him  on  high  ? 

VI. 

What  tho'  our  store  be  waning  all, 

Our  weak  resources  help  deny  ? 
That  God,  who  sees  a  sparrow  fall, 

Can  yield  us  then  a  rich  supply, 
vir. 
What  tho'  thou  weepest  in  the  dust, 

Thy  lot  be  low,  thy  purse  be  poor  ? 
Make  Him  thy  hope,  and  strength,  and  truet- 

Thy  bread  is  safe,  thy  water  sure. 


I. 


SACRED  POEMS. 


141 


viir. 


Arise !  arise  1  rind  deem  no  more 
Thy  God,  regardless  of  thy  fate. 

He  will  recruit  thy  wasted  store, 
And  lift  theci  from  thy  low  estate. 


4 


IX. 

H  is  wondrous  Love  will  ne'er  wax  cold, 
When  friends  forsake  thy  wounded  breast : 

Not  one  good  thing  will  Ho  withhold. 
From  souls  who  seek  in  Him  their  rest. 

X. 

Oh  !  what  a  gracious  God  la  ours, 

Whose  work  we  are,  whose  name  we  bless  ! 
Come  life,  come  death — como  sun,  come  show'rs- 

Let  us  still  trust  His  faithfulness. 

HYMN  XXII. 
I. 

Oh  !  what  a  clog  is  unbelief, 

Which  robs  the  soul  of  health,  and  peace  ; 
At  once  our  sin,  our  guilt,  and  grief : 

When — when  will  this  tormentor  cease  ? 

U, 

Oh  !  what  can  cause  this  sick'ning  strife, 
'Twixt  care,  and  doubt,  and  scruples  valii  T 

Have  christian  men  no  nobler  life. 
Than  this  rude  war  with  inward  pain  ? 
13 


i»»r;v™![,^(lpjHW(yjwiJBjjnip^»»f^{li{H^.i   mtmrwffxm 


li'l 


HYMNS  AND 


III. 


Can  it  be  thus,  withtliosc  that  seek 
To  scn'c  the  Lord,  with  truo  inlcnt  ? 

Is  ini^lsty  Trutli  so  faint,  and  weak, 
As  not  to  force  more  full  assent; 

IV. 

Full  Faith — exemplified  in  all 

Its  j^loriona  frail3  of  act,  and  deed, 
And  j;od!ikc  bearing ;  not  the  small, 
Starved  grou'th,  of  speculative  creed  ? 

V. 

Faith  should  bo  forced,  and  s^'catly  won, 
By  blaze  of  Truth's  meridian  lij;'ht. 

When  clear,  and  cloudless,  shines  the  si:n; 
\Vl;o,  that  has  eyes,  can  deem  it  night '/ 

vx. 
0:\,  v/hen  ov;r  souLj  v/ould  clearly  view 

The  sun  of  gospel  light  serene  ; 
Ala::)  I  to  damp  our  joy  anew, 

Some  envious  cloud  btill  comes  between. 

VII. 

It  must  be  that  our  earthly  part — 
Of  strange  contrivance,  deep  desijn, 

(Work,  wondrous  work !  of  matchless  art ;) 
With  thousand  nerves  and  fibres  fine — 

VIII. 

Gives  trouble  to  the  soul ;  when  jar 
The  movements  of  its  nice  raacliine ; 


',i^' 


1 


^ 


SACPiKD    rOEMS. 


143 


5; 


Its  l.o.ilili  wlicn  subtle  causes  mar, 
Dlslurbancc  on  the  mind  is  seen. 


IX. 


It  cinnot  bo,  tliat  aught,  but  this, 
Can  gloom  the  soul's  scrcncst  ray ; 

Clin  rob  her  of  her  riglit  to  bliss. 
Beneath  the  blaze  of  Gospel  day. 


X. 


The  holiest  faith  that  man  e'er  blessed — 

When  judgment  totters,  mind  grows  dull- 
Will  fail  to  cheer  the  saddened  breast ; 
And  weakened  pow'rs  will  joy  annul. 


XI. 


Tlioso,  and  like  troubles,  with  the  calm 
Repose  of  patience,  should  be  borne : 

Pray'r  to  the  wounded  breast  is  balm  ; 
And  Ileav'n  will  crown  the  tempest- worn. 


i) 


m 


HYMN  XXIII. 
1. 

Souls  !  that  boar  the  battle's  dint, 
Warriors  !  striving  with  the  foe — 

Set  your  faces  firm  as  flint ; 
Smite  to  death  with  ev'ry  blow. 

IT. 

Strive  with  spirit,  soul,  and  mind, 
For  the  mighty  mastery ; 


'  ■•' ' :"' 


i^ii)uii«iipiV9H^iii«JH^mjwi*>if«Ci>  iinwinu"«iii  ^  ppifmiMiwi^ipi  tm.jm 


iil 


144 


IITMNS  AND 


Fling  the  scabbard  far  behind  ; 
'Ileav'n,  and  Christ !'  the  watchword  be- 


m. 


Victory  will  crown  your  pain  j 
Victory  is  worth  your  toil— 

Victory  is  glorious  gain  ; 
Rest  from  battle's  stern  turmoil. 


IV. 


Rest,  and  triumph's  royal  crown, 

Palms  that  Christian  conq'rors  wear- 
Endless,  wondrous,  high  renown, 
Wait — your  portion,  lot,  and  share. 


HYMN   XXir. 


I. 


Gkktle,  as  when  Morning  stealeth 
O'er  the  eartli,  and  sea,  and  air — 

Is  the  calm  my  spirit  feeleth  ; 
When  I  breathe  my  soul  in  pray'r. 

n. 
Gentle,  as  the  sigh  of  even, 

When  she  treads  the  track  of  day — 
Comes  a  still  small  voice  from  Heaven  ; 

Wooes,  and  wins  my  soul  away. 

III. 

Earth !  thy  joys  no  more  deceive  me ; 
World  !  thy  smiles  are  but  a  cheat : 


SACRED  rOEMS. 


M6 


Mine  a  Lliss,  tliat  ne'er  can  leave  me ; 
Pleasures  without  cud  are  swee  t ! 

IV. 

As  the  Pilgrim,  lono  and  weary, 
Drooj)ing  in  some  dosort  land — 

Vicwd  around  the  prospect  dreary, 
One  wide  waste  of  burning  sand  : 

V, 

But,  at  length— his  eye  discerning 
Some  fliir  isle,  of  lovely  green ; 
All  for  which  his  heart  is  yearning  : 
Far,  and  off— yet  clearly  seen — 

vr. 

Finds  his  fears  were  but  delusion : 
f   (Lo  !  it  brightens  in  the  sun ; 
Round  that  isle,  in  blest  effusion, 
Fountains  spring,  and  rivers  run  :) 

vn. 
Then,  Jiis  feet  are  shod  with  fleetness ; 

Thither,  thither  speed  away  : 
In  that  land  of  rest,  and  sweetness, 

He  will  soothe  hira  many  a  day : 

VIII. 

Thus  a  glance  above  will  cheer  ns. 
When  we  strive  and  watch  in  pray'r ; 

Heav'n— if  ours— is  surely  near  us : 
Jesus !  Thou  wilt  bring  us  there. 


"*^-vl'- 


13* 


''^'^«wirf^Tr»T"pwiiap?\ 


146 


HYMNS    AND 


THE  STORl. 


"God  help  thee,  traveller." — Kikee  White. 


I. 

The  storm  sweeps  by  on  his  car  of  clcud, 

And  drives  o'er  earth  in  wildness ; 
The  wan  moon,  wrapt  in  her  silver  shroud, 

Ilath  hid  her  brow  of  mildness ; 
The  stars  ave  cloak'd  in  the  fun'iai  pall, 

That  darkness  folds  around  them  ; 
Thevolum'd  vapours  their  forms  enthral. 

And  blackness'  chain  hath  bound  them. 

II, 
What  a  night  is  this !  what  a  night  is  this  1 

When  the  forest's  earth  born  giant, 
Writhes  his  hujje  form  o'er  the  precipice, 

And  ucnds  like  the  osier  pliant ; 
Till  down  comes  his  crushing  vastncss  near, 

With  a  dying  groan  of  thunder ; 
Earth  quivers,  and  bounds  at  that  crash,  in  fear  ; 

And  the  stern  wolf  wakes  in  wonder. 

m. 

What  a  night  to  ride  the  forest  path, 
Dim,  viewless,  and  strange,  before  us ; 

While  the  wild  wind  gathers  the  gusts  of  his  wrath, 
And  wreaks  them  in  fury  o'er  us. 

Had  man  a  heart,  and  a  breast,  of  steel— 
This  night  were  their  firmness  shaken ; 


SACRED  FOEMS. 


147 


This  hour  must  that  heart  its  frailty  feel, 
And  fear  in  that  hreast  awaken. 

Yet  there  is  a  Pow'r  around,  and  nigh, 

That  watchful  ever  abidelh  ; 
His  hand  rules  all  in  the  earth,  and  sky ; 

His  wisdom  the  tempest  guideth : 
Not  a  leaf  can  fail  from  t'le  forest-tree, 

When  the  storm  its  branches  swayeth — 
Not  an  atom  can  stir  b)  land  or  sea, 

But  it  His  bidding  oboyeth. 

V. 

If  He  be  thy  friend,  thou  nced'st  not  fear, 

Nor  hurt ,  nor  harm  can  befall  thee ; 
Tho' death  in  a  thoisand  shapes  seem  near, 

And  darkness  and  storm  appal  thee  : 
Tho'  fleah  may  quiver,  and  spirit  quake, 

And  terror  of  sonse  bereave  thee — 
His  hand  thy  soul  from  distress  shall  take ; 

And  from  ruin's  depth  retrieve  thee. 

VI, 

He'll  bring  thee  back  to  thy  homestead  dear, 

Thou  desolate  forest-ranger  ! 
Home  !  Oh  '.  how  a  thought  on  thee  can  cheer 

Long  hours  of  travel,  and  danger ! 
Lone,  weary,  and  dark,  as  I  ride  along, 

Whiie  my  limbs  in  the  chill  rain  welter- 
Sweet  visioLc  of  thee  around  me  throng, 

And  woo  to  thy  welcome  shelter. 


' «  ^'  'T'J.  W. V*  V' 


^W 


148 


HYMKS  AND 


VU. 

In  the  world's  ccIJ  gloom,  one  t'pot  most  bright , 

Can  the  care-dimmed  eye  discover; 
There  wait  us  shelter,  and  warmth,  and  light, 

And  rest  when  our  toil  is  over : 
Homo  !  where  each  charm  of  hope,  and  love, 

The  drooping  soul  allnreth  ; 
Sweet  emblem  of  that  blest  state  above, 

Where  joy  for  aye  endurcth. 


HVMN  XXV. 
I. 

Oh  !  be  not  of  an  earthly  mind ; 

Look,  look  to  Him  on  high : 
To  God's  good  pleasure  be  resigned, 

Whetlier  to  live,  or  die. 

II. 
To  seek  for  rest  on  earth  is  vain ; 

'Twill  ne'er  be  found  below  : 
For  those  in  Christ,  to  die  is  gain ; 

'Tis  rest  from  ev'ry  w  oe. 

III. 
'Tis  rest  from  sin,  and  sorrow's  smart ; 

From  toil,  and  trouble  too  : 
From  fear,  and  a  deceitful  heart, 

'Tis  rest  for  me,  and  you. 


SACRED  POEMS. 


IV. 


'Tis  rest  from  peril,  pain,  and  grief; 

From  vvand'rings  to  and  fro  : 
From  frailly  a  supremo  relief, 

Freedom  from  cv'ry  foe. 

V. 

Rest,  rest  from  warfare,  and  from  strife  ; 

From  earth's  cncumbring  clod  : 
'Tisjoy  of  joy,  and  life  of  life; 

'Tis  Heav'n,  and  Christ,  and  God  ! 


JEHOVAH,  OUR  RIGHTEOUSNESS. 
I. 

JEiiovAn  is  our  Righteousness, 

Sole  Saviour  of  our  race  ; 
Come  saint,  and  sinner,  join  to  bless 

The  fullness,  freeness  of  his  grace : 
Lift — lift  on  high  united  voices, 
And  tell  how  man  in  God  rejoices. 

ii. 

God  is  our  glory,  strength  and  aid— 

(No  other  help  than  He) — 
Let's  love,  and  servq  Him,  undismayed  : 

Tho'  mighty  mountains  in  the  sea 
Be  cast ;  and  Hell's  abysses,  under, 
Would  shake  our  souls  with  Satan's  thunder. 


149 


1.60 


iiVMNs  a:;d 


ill 


'iili 


m 


m. 
Tiio*  Earili,  and  licr  eternal  bars, 

.Do  rent  from  licr  strong  base ; 
Tiio'  mour.lains,  moon,  and  sun,  and  stars, 

Ro  liurlod  from  tlicir  appointed  placo, 
And  thro"  tlic  vault  of  space  bo  scattered— 
Tt^n  thousand  worlds  in  ruin  shattered  ; 

IV. 

Tho'  tlic  broad  firmament  whould  cast  her 

Stars  like  untimely  fruit : 
We'll  trust,  and  triinn|)li,  in  our  ^Nfaster — 

The  Branch  of  David's  royal  root ; 
Judali's  unconqncrod  Lord  and  Lion — 

The  King  of  dory.  King  of  Zion. 

V. 

Tho'  Satan  rushes  lil;n  a  flood. 

To  sweep  from  cv'ry  stay  ; 
Tho'  sun  be  darkness,  moon  be  blood, 

Rocks  melt  with  fervent  heat  away : 
Amid  tho  ruins  of  creation, 
We'll  shout,  and  sing  the  great  salvation. 

VI. 

We'll  triumph  in  viw  King  and  Lord, 

Tho'  now  we're  fai  at  and  low  : 
Oh  !  let  Ilim  bare  IIis  two-edged  sword, 

And  smite  our  cv'ry  fiendish  foe — 
Satan  and  Sin; — whoso  black  rebelling 
Hath  darkened  all  our  carthlv  dwelling. 


SACCID  rOEJIS. 


151 


vir. 


Oil :  let  llini  free  cac!i  Lcart,  and  soi;], 

Trom  giiill  nil:!  Iicllioli  i:,hi ; 
Let  light  bca.ni  there  with  bicot  con:r;j!,      '  > 

Hid  Holy  Spirit  i-i.Il!  •.viiain  : 
And  doubt,  and  darknc.^s,  tl;c,ico  bs  dr'.-.cn. ; 
Till  u,!!  lo  Love,  ai.d  all  bo  Heaven. 


mokmac  iiliin. 


I. 

r-'Av:o:';; .'  vvo  ioavo  cur  bcdoof  rCo(, 
And  Lev/  before  t'lo  Throne,  in  pr.:yer; 

or  t!,y  ,good  boiuity  torenueot 

fc^uch  ^ifts  as  t'iou  b'jsfr>'vjst  ihero. 

n. 

A  lif.iL  Ins  bleosed  our  or.tor  wurld — 
So  let  Thy  mercy  beam  vviihin  ; 

Let  dn-ibt,  and  darlcncss,  thence  be  hurlod  ; 
And  set  us  free  from  guilt,  and  ciin. 

III. 
Open  OUT  eyes— each  mind,  and  hcr.rt— 

That  we  may  all  Thy  froodncss  :.ce  ; 
Behold  Thee,  as  hidced  Thou  art, 

Tiio  Lord  of  Love,  and  Charllv. 


IV. 


L'trengthen  our  souk,  that  wo  may  run 
The  raco  that  is  before  us  set ; 


16S 


HYMNS   AND 


Tliat,  when  our  day  of  life  is  done, 
Thy  bounteous  smile  may  bless  us  yet. 


V. 

Oh !  grant  that  we — like  strong  men  crmpd— 
Our  citadel,  the  heart,  may  keep ; 

By  Sin,  and  Satan,  all  unharmed : 
And  never  slumber,  never  sleep. 

VI. 

Bless  us  in  all  wo  sneak,  and  Jo; 

Bless  us  in  all  our  inward  thou'iht : 
Bless  every  object  wc  pursue ; 

Bless  all  the  works  our  liands  have  wrought. 

Yir. 
In  coming  in,  and  going  out, 

In  rising  up,  and  lying  dov.T. — 
Let  Thy  gccd  blccj^ing  be,  tlirouf^licut 

Both  day  and  night,  our  joy  and  crown. 


THE  UVi  or  LOVE. 


I. 


Be  angry,  nor  sin.    As  waters  deep — 

Cool,  and  unrufllcd,  thy  spirit  keep : 

As  the  motionless  depth,  which  the  peeking  wir.d 

But  ripples  ;  nor  leaves  a  trace  behind  j 


ir. 


As  the  wavelcss  lymph  of  Eomo  still  lake ; 
Shrouded  by  hills,  that  no  stcrm  can  shake : 


SACRED  POEMS. 


Hi 


In  whoso  bosom  of  calmness,  nought  is  seen; 
Save  Heaven's  fair  light,  and  blue  serene. 


in. 


In  this  world  of  halo,  and  guilt,  and  wrong, 
'J  ho'  ruffians,  and  cheats,  may  round  thee  throng ; 
Tlio' insult,  and  injury,  be  on  thee  piled — 
To  the  good  unknown,  by  the  bad  reviled : 


IV. 


Tho'  evil  report  upon  theo  lour ; 
And  the  guileless  apcoch  of  a  guardless  hour 
Be  blackened  witli  blot  of  tlio  serpent's  tongue ; 
And  thy  scnaitivo  breast  with  pain  be  wrung; 


V. 

Tho'  Slander  may  point  her  keenest  shaft ; 
And  Calumny  come  v/ith  her  wormwood  draught, 
And  force  thee  to  take  that  poisoned  cup, 
And  drain  tho  dregs  of  her  malice  up: 

VI. 

Tho'  Falsehood  may  steal  where  thou  dost  resort, 
With  her  glass  to  multiply,  and  distort ; 

And  show  thee  most  hideous,  vile,  and  mean 

Thy  frailties  baser,  thy  leaaness  more  lean  : 

VII. 

Yet  even,  and  calm,  bo  thy  balanced  soul ; 
The'  the  storm  run  high,  and  the  waters  roll — 
Secure  in  the  pow'r  of  the  Lord  be  still : 
Let  His  liOvo  blaze  higher,  thro'  outward  ill. 


14. 


WW,    ^  II  1 1  I  I    llbw^n^^jpi^l^  I 


154 


HVMNS  ASD 


vin. 


Smile  on  the  rage  of  the  godless  cre^v } 
And  humbly,  in  peace,  thy  course  pursue ; 
Let  thine  eye,  and  thy  soul,  be  fixed  above ; 
In  the  cat'm  of  faith,  and  the  rest  of  love. 

IX. 

"Be  angry  at  sin — yet  thy  peace  preserve  j 
And  ne'er  i'rom  the  law  of      idness  swerve : 
The  sinner  rebuke — and  with  sharpness  too  ; 
But  let  liOVE  still  beam  in  its  brightness  through. 


* 


If 


tk 


«** 


igh. 


NOTES  ON 
THE  HYMXS  AXD  SACRED  POEMS. 

Page  108.  Hymn  ii. 

— lie  /hat  comes  rvill  come. 
See  Ileb.  x.  37.    Hab.  ii.  3. 

Page  109.    Il^-mn  ni. 

The  first  four  stanzas  arc  a  paraphrase  of  a  beautiful  pas- 
sage in  Job.     See  Ch.  xiv.  7—12,  14,  18,  19. 

Page  1 1 5.    Hymn  viii. 

Tir:  hreaOibiiX  of  a  si  ah— 
The  7710 ti 071— 

Tlicse  t'.vo  lines,  'Plough  obviously  not  copicil,)  may  perhaps 
seem  to  be  a  reflection  of  ideas,  which  occur  in  Bickersteth's 
llyiun  on  Prayer.  Any  such  resemblance,  if  known  to  the  au- 
thor, would  have  been  acknowledged  by  him ;  had  he  ever  pub- 
lislied  this  piece.  But  it  is  necessary,  further,  to  state — that 
Dr.  Ilaskins,  probably,  never  saw  Bickersteth's  Hymn  :  but 
had  only  heard  some   passages  from  his  friend  the  Editor. 

Page  IIG.    Hymn  ix. 

Tlie  general  idea,  of  the  subject  merely,  of  this  piece,  was  sug- 
gested by  the  chorus  (more  particularly,)  of  a  well  known  hymn  ; 
the  spirit  of  which  our  Author  admired  :  though  its  composition, 
(as  regards  poetry)  did  not  meet  with  his  entire  approbation.  In 
e.vpressing  his  own  thouglits  and  feelings,  lie  has  observed  the  me- 


'Tf-»ji"  ^  «*J»  iiiHui;.  V* 


-|'4'Wi«>.  »i 


15G 


KOTES. 


tre  of  tlic  old  liymn  ;  and  ho  used  to  sing  his  own,  wiih  hia  wifo, 
(and  afterwards  with  hiy  liiciid,  the  Editor,)  to  tlic  favourite  uij-. 
Set'  the  preceding  brief  Memoir. 

Page  120.    Death.'s  Last  Victory;  and 
Page  123.    Dcnth  Coiin^uorcd. 

See  Rev.  vi.  8.    Isaiah,  xxv.  8.  Ilosea,  xiii.  14.     1  Cor. 
XT.  64— 67.    Rev.  xx.  13, 14. 
Page  124.    '-TIic  Foolishncs:3  of  Preaching." 
See  I  Cor.  i.  18—21. 

Page  128.      Ilyrr.n  xii. 
"A.v/ics  to  afJics !  duct  lo  dad  .'" 

See  the  Rnrial  service  of  the  Trot.  Ep.  Church ;  and  of  the 
Meth.  Ep.  Church.  And  sco  Gen.  iii.  19.  xvm.  27.  Job 
XXXIV.  16.    Ps.  CIV.  29    Eccl.  iii.  20.    xii.  7. 

l*age  152.  The  Lav.'  of  Love.  Rtz,  vi.  4.  thy  leannsss^ZeQ  Isai- 
ah, XXIY.   16. 


n'lh  Ilia   wifo, 
fuvourite  aij'. 


14.     1  Cor. 


and  of  the 

[.  27.      Job 


SONGS  OF  SOLITUDE. 


!— Seelaai- 


14* 


BJ"  Th.e  Airs,  iiamedin  connection  with  several  of  the  following 
tSovgs,  are  those  to  which  they  were  respectively  composed;  and  to 
which  the  Author  used  to  sing  them,  accompanvi''.g  his  voice  with  the 
Spanish  guitar.  For  more  particular  information,  see  thg  prece- 
ding Memoir. 


SONO-S  OF  SOLITUDE. 


BONO  I. 


Am — Hassan  cj*  Leila. 

I. 

Zio;, '  o"  r  thy  darkling  rest, 
Dawns  the  day  with  silver  crest ; 

And,  where  Jordan  rolls  afar 

Heralded  by  one  bright  star, 
Morning  wheels  her  golden  car, 
O'er  the  mountains  fleetly. 

II. 

See  !  the  wintry  snows  have  gone 
Far  from  leafy  Lebanon ; 

And,  amid  the  cedar-grove 

Winged  with  boauty,  breezes  rove, 
Wafting  music  from  above  : 
Answers  Echo  sweetly. 

m. 
Carmel's  verdant  top  appears, 
Gemmed  with  morning's  sparkling  tears. 
Zion !  o'er  thy  sacred  wall, 
Golden  floods  of  day-light  fall : 
Darkness,  with  his  dreary  pall, 
Never  more  shall  meet  thee. 


160 


SONGS    OF    SOLITUDE. 


Si 


IV. 

Daughters  of  Jerusalem ! 
Bright  with  many  a  starry  gem, 
Broad  Ills  banner  waves  on  high  ; 
Fhimes  the  red  Cross  in  the  sky  : 
Sing  !  for  your  Redeemer's  nigli — 
Jesus,  liail !  we  greet  tliee  ! 

SONG  II. 

Aifv— "L//''  hi  vs  clterish." 

I. 

C0.1IE  !  thon  glad  morning 
Of  a  blest,  eternal  day  ; 
And  disjK'l  the  darknoss, 

In  whicli  we  stray. 
Dreary  is  tlu  clouded  night ; 
Stars  and  moon  withhold  their  light; 
Joyless  fleet  the  hours  away  :— 
Hasten,  beauteous  day  ! 
Come  !  thou  glad  morning,  &c. 

II. 
j\ight  has  no  pleasure, 

To  the  trav'ler  far  from  home  ; 
But  the  thought  is  cheering— 

Morn  soon  will  come. 
Wijen,  along  th'  empurpl'd  sky, 
Glance  the  sparkling  rays  0 .1  h'gh  ; 


^fl^^''w^P5^W^^,  n 


SONCS   OF   SOLITUDE. 


161 


Honns  will  greot  the  pilgrim  worn 
Haste,  then,  heavenly  morn  I 
Come  !  thou  glad  morning,  &,c. 

ni. 
Is^/on  the  sunbeam, 

Glowing  on  the  mountain's  peak  ? 
Are  yon  the  bkiohes 

Of  Morning's  check  ? 
Ocean's  wave  in  lustre  barns  ; 
Now  the  goklon  day  returns  : 

Nature's  hour  of  bliss  comes  on  ; 
Grief  is  quickly  gone. 
Come !  thou  glad  morning,  &c. 

IV. 

Thus,  O  my  spirit ! 

Wiien  life's  brief  gloom  is  past ; 
Shall  a  dawning  cheer  thee, 

Whose  light  shall  last; 
Undecayed  thro'  endless  years — 
Sullied  not  by  sorrow's  tears — 

Cloudless,  pure,  immortal  day : 
Haste  then.  Night,  away ! 
Come  !  thou  glad  mornind' 
Of  a  blest,  eternal  day  ; 
And  dispel  the  darkness, 
In  which  we  stray. 


w 


U)2 


SONGS   OF   SOLITl'DE. 


*- 


SONG    III. 

Aui — '•Ciiai  uer  the.  sea.''' 

I. 
Sl:.n  of  tho  (IvMcl ! 
Savioiiv-0!i !  slied 
liiglit  within,  till  tlie  gloom  be  flod : 
In  tlic  cold  sliadow, 

WiiL'rc  sorruvv"  sils  iiuisiiig, 
Tliy  suiilos  of  love 

0"cr  tlio  spiriL  (liiriiaiiig. 

11. 
DlinU'  and  (Uivk, 
Over  oi;r  Lark, 

Fulls  the  ruin,  as  the  Hoods  on  tlie  Ark. 
Milker,  and  Mu-oler ! 

Rescue  from  d.uij;,er : 
TLoii  art  the  liclp 

Of  the  friendless,  and  stranger. 

in. 
When  o'er  the  soal 
Decj)  \v;iters  roll  ; 
Ruler  of  !::^eas  !  their  rage  control. 
Let  not  the  tempest 

Brcatlio  on  tho  billows ; 
Unshed  as  the  wind, 

That  wa^•es  :iot  the  willows 


i  1 


VT    i.,iyii.iiiqppi^l)^l^||)i 


SOXGS  OF   SOLITUDE. 


ir,;{ 


IV. 

Mourners,  that  weep 

In  sorrow  deep ! 

All  your  woes  in  oblivion  sleep  : 

For  the  hind  Saviour — 

Tho'  earUi  be  dreary — 
Calls  to  liis  breast 

The  burdened,  and  weary. 


! 


SONG    IV. 

Air — "  She  came  a!  cvc.^^ 
1. 


When  the  wildering  spells  of  tlie  night  are  thrown 
O'er  the  tranquil  rest  of  my  slumber  lone  ; 

When  Silence  sleeps  by  the  haunted  rill ;, 

Pleased  in  dreams,  I  wander  still. 


II. 


In  delighted  vision,  my  heart  then  roves 
To  the  calm  refuge  of  the  home  it  loves  ; 
Ileav'n-ward  soaring— stars,  at  my  feet, 
liight  me  on  to  that  mansion  sweet. 


III. 


What  are  yearoimd  me,  whose  splendour  seems 
Like  the  sun,  in  glory  of  his  noon-day  beams  ? 
Beings  of  beauty !  how  bright  ye  shine, 
Robed  in  lustre  of  Love  Divine ! 


1C4 


SONGS   OF   SOLITUDE. 


liilii 


IV. 


Oh  !  would  that,  free  from  sin  and  sorrow's  cliuin, 
I  too,  in  bliss  might  wander  amid  yon  train  ; 
Purer  than  snows  on  the  sunlit  steep : 
Where  souls  ne'er  sigh,  and  hearts  ne'er  weop. 


SONG    V. 


Am— 'Till: a  Bn'ierJIy." 


When  dewy  flowers  are  smiling  beneath, 

Waked  by  tlio  mocn  with  her  silvery  kiss  ; 
Winds  o'er  the  waters  in  ecstasy  breathe, 

Wooing  the  leaflets  that  tremble  in  bliss  : — 
When  sparkling  fountains  their  voices  unite 

With  murmuring  streams,  as  they  whisper  of  love, 
Blending  in  music  with  sighs  of  the  night — 

I'aradise  opens,  around  and  above. 

When  on  the  mountains,  the  dawn-star  is  brigbl, 

Blushes  in  beauty  the  Morning  on  Iiigh; 
When  the  world  wakes  in  an  ocean  of  liirhf. 

Crimson-hued  billows  empurpling  the  sky: — 
Soft,  in  the  stillness,  awakens  a  tone, 

Music  of  heart-strings  that  thrill  in  the  breast : 
Like  pbantom-liell  ringing  in  wilderness  lone, 

Echo  around  me  the  songs  of  the  blessed. 


SONGS  OF   SOLITUDE. 


165 


SONG   VI. 


I. 

Weep  not  for  the  dead, 

Beloved  of  old ; 
Tho'  bright  brows  be  ashes, 

Fond,  faithful  hearts  cold  ; 
Tho'  silent,  in  darkness. 

Their  dwelling  is  made ; 
Mid  clods  of  the  valley 

Their  dust  lies  decayed. 

n. 
Oh  !  checked  be  thy  tears, 

Tho'  bereft  in  an  hour  : 
Earth's  loveliest,  kindest, 

Cut  down  as  a  flower, 
By  hand  of  the  reaper, 

In  beauty  laid  low ; 
The'  full  heart  be  breaking, 

And  sad  eyes  o'erflow. 

IK. 

Weep  not  for  the  dead, 

Bright,  beauteous,  and  brave; 
Life's  gems,  in  their  glory 

Gfone  down  to  the  grave  : 
The  choice  fruits  of  summer. 

The  sweets  of  the  spring ; 
Oil !  fall'n  in  their  freshness, 

While  storms  waved  their  wing 


;i     ;' 


15 


266 


SOKfflS  OF  SOLITUDE. 


There  swept  a  rude  storm 

From  the  deep,  in  its  flight , 
Ere  desolate  winter 

Came  on  in  his  might. 
Its  rude  hand  hath  rifled 

TJie  garden's  rich  store ; 
^nd  blighted  earth's  Edm, 

Sw^eet  smiling  no  more. 

V, 
Yet  sprlngeth  a  stem, 

O'er  blackness  beneath, 
Whose  buds  in  the  desert 

A  wild  fragrance  breathe. 
When  winds  rudely  bluster, 

Tbo'  trembles  its  form ; 
Its  loveliness  blooming, 

It  smiles  at  the  storm. 


VI. 

Bedewed  by  the  drops 

From  their  fountain  above, 
It  stands,  as  a  spirit* 

In  light  and  in  love  ; 
Fit  emblem  of  beauties 

The  grave  holds  in  trust ; 
Till  hour  of  revival, 

Low  lying  in  duat. 


SONGS  Of  SOLITUDE. 


167 


VII. 

'Tis  Hope  o'er  the  wreck 

Of  withering  years, 
Triumphant  o'er  sorrow, 

Rejoicing  thro'  tears. 
Its  verdant  leaves  whisper 

The  parted  shall  mect^ 
Till  then  in  earth's  bosom, 

Their  slumber  is  sweet. 

VIII. 

Pale  watcTier !  that  weep''st 

'Mong  the  sad  tombs  forlorn:; 
The  dim  clouds  are  passing ; 

'Tis  break  of  the  morn. 
Tlio'  clods  cannot  cover 

The  dead  from  the  sight, 
Yet,  Mem'ry  thou  mourner  J 

The  dawn-star  is  bright. 

IX. 

And  soon  shall  all  tears 

Depart  from  each  eye. 
Like  dew  drops  of  morning 

Exhaled  to  the  sky. 
In  home  of  our  Father, 

Bright,  joyous,  and  calm — 
There's  rest  for  the  weary, 

Por  each  woe  a  halm. 


B!    i 


Hi 

is'' 

if 


>4« 


m  • 


168 


SONGS  OF  SOLITUDE. 


SONG    VII. 

Air — Bay  of  Biscay. 

I. 

Tho'  thousand  foes  surround  us, 

And  fears  rise  up  within  ; 
Yet  Love  Divine  hath  found  us — 

We  sliall  be  saved  from  sin  ; 
Tlje  dismal,  downward  road, 
Shall  ne'er  by  us  be  trotle — 
WJiilo  we  may 
Watch  ard  pray, 
And  strive  all  the  day. 
In  Jcsu's  name. 


n. 
Then  let  our  lives  be  holy, 

To  Satan  ne'er  give  place ; 
But  look  to  Jesus  solely, 

Be  saved  by  His  free  grace  : 
Begone  our  doubts  and  fears— 
The  way  to  Heav'n  appears  ; 
There  our  home  lies — 
There  soon  soon  we'll  rise. 
Thro'  yonder  skies, 
In  Jesu's  name. 


III. 


Come,  let  us  kneel  before  Him, 
And  to  Him  humbly  pray ; 

In  faith,  and  love,  adore  Him, 
And  serve  Him  all  the  day : 


S05GS  or   SOLITUDE.  l(J9 

Lot  us  sing  praises,  too, 
In  adoration  due : 

Let's  soar  above, 

On  wings  of  the  Dove  ; 

And  sing  His  liovc, 
lu  Jcsu's  name. 

\ 

SONG  VIII. 
I. 

Dark  as  lac  shadow  where  midnight  is  sleeping, 

tSotrow  hath  liungo'er  my  spirit  its  gloom; 
Memory  wakes — on  her  pillow  still  weeping, 

Sadly  slie  thinks  of  the  loved  in  the  tomb. 
{Spirit !  say — why  is  thy  woe  still  waking  ? 

Memory !  wherefore  weepeth  thine  eye  ? 
Oh  !  seost  thou  not  that  the  morn  is  breaking  ? 

Dawns  not  a  day  of  glory  on  liigh  ? 

11. 
Heart !  art  thou  yearning  for  those  that  have  left  thee, 

Changing  for  heav'n  this  dark  valley  of  woe? 
Say— of  all  hope  hath  affliction  bereft  tlice  ? 

Dt>solato  mourner !  thy  sadness  forego. 
Oh  !  deem  not  that  the  departed  slumber 

Coldly,  for^aye,  in  their  narrow  bod ; 
Refulgent  on  high,  a  countless  number — 

Like  stars,  and  like  suns,  they  glory  shed. 


15* 


■ 


1^ 


P   I  «IIP|IMI||IQ  I,        J   I 


170  SONGS  OF  SOLITUDE. 

BON  a  IX. 

AiK. —  The  Uiird'^  Legacy. 

I. 

Take  this  ploom  from  my  aoiil  away, 

Jesu  !  Sciviour!  the  sinners  IVioiul : 
Honi)»  on  my  spirit  ono  genial  my, 

And  bill  tlie  niyhtofmy  sorrow  end: 
Iii'l  the  bahii-drops  of  bliss  cnlij^hten 

The  eloiul  that  o'ersha<K)Ws  my  iliia  cold  breast; 
And  rainbow-tinls  ofheav'n's  beauty  brijjiilen 

'J'Jie  tear-dews  Tailing  where  loved  ones  rest. 

ir. 
Around — while  T  wander  in  darkness  drear, 

The  aujirl  forms  of  the  dead  arise  : 
Whispers  their  voice  like  music  near; 

And  thcliuslre  strange  of  their  dazzling  eyes 
lleams  on  my  soul  immortal  glances, 

Like  the  Ilera Id-star  of  Redeeming  Love : 
When  the  Chaldec  Sage  in  his  midnight  trances. 

Hailed  a  new  sun  mid  tUc  worlds  above. 

itr. 
Fairest  and  best  of  yon  bright  forms  ! 

Say — art  tl.ou  .-he  who  vanished  on  high, 
IjCaving  me  lone  in  this  land  of  storms  ? 

Twas  but  a  vision — she  did  not  die  ! 
Saviour,  Oh!  when  shall  thy  blest  returning 

Scatter  our  dreams  of  desponding  gloom  : 
From  graves,  the  dust  of  thy  siints  inurnlng, 

Rise  glorious  suns  in  eternal  bloom  7 


KONUS  OF  SOLITUDE. 


171 


SONG  X. 
!. 

O  i.AVM  of  bliss  and  lirijrliiiKss, — 

How  fuir  lliou  sooiirsi  lo  inc  !    • 
Arniyod  in  rohes  of  wliilcnoss, 

Tho  nn(f('l-l):mtl  I  hw.. 
And  mid  tluit  bund  with  ^iory  crownod, 

A  bcaulcoiis  I'ann  stiinds  riidisinlly; 
t^inibn^T  in  love  on  till  around  : 

Tlie  ISuviour-Kin^^ — 'tis  He  I 

n. 
O  land  of  liolil  rcsjilendont .' 

When  shall  this  earlh  like  thee, 
In  holiness  (ranscendeni, 

From  sin  and  death  be  free  ? 
When  shall  our  ^niil(,and  grief  and  woe, 

He  cast  like  stones  into  the  sea  ; 
All  hearts  the  light  of  love  o'erllow ; 

Jesus  their  j)ortion  be  ? 

BOXO  XI. 

I. 

IMy  people  Til  ransom  from  power  of  the  grave, 
From  sword  of  the  spoiler  I'll  rescue  and  save  : 
From  death  to  redeem  them,  my  angel  stands  by  ; 
Tho'  thousands  aic  falling,  no  danger  is  nigh. 

.   ■     '     '■  '..  'IL         .    "  ^ 
In  the  dark  viaioned  valley,  where  black  waters  glide, 
Omnipotence  leads  tliem— iw  evils  betide  : 


, 


172 


80XGS  OF  SOLITUDE, 


A  morning  of  splendour,  through  shado  of  the  tomb, 
Still  haloes  with  glory  the  sepulchre's  gloom. 


m. 


O  death,  thou  destroyer  !  how  brief  was  thy  pow'r ! 
O  grave  !  thou  art  vanquished,  no  more  to  devour! 
The  sword  of  the  spoiler  is  shivered  and  rent : 
Ills  arrows  are  broken,  his  quiver  is  spent. 


IV. 


Eternity  dawns  in  its  beauty  above ; 
My  banner  waves  widely — that  banner  is  Love : 
Revealingsof  Paradise  burst  on  the  sight ; 
The  sons  of  my  bosom  rejoice  in  its  light. 


SONG  XII. 


I. 


Out  of  the  deeps — where  the  fearful  tone 
Of  the  broken  heart  is  heard  alone ; 
^Vllerc  the  viewless  grief  that  the  body  kills, 
And  the  icy  pang  that  the  spirit  chills, 
Utter  the  voice  of  dread  despair- 
To  thee  I  turn :  God  !   hoar  my  prayer. 

n. 

Where  the  frozen  billows,  in  midnight  dark, 

Crashing,  roar  round  my  fragile  bark ; 

And  the  Siorm-fiend  frowns  with  terrific  eve, 

As  the  flickering  stars  go  out  and  die— 

O'erwlielmcd  in  ocean's  abysses  lone, 

God!  hear  my  pray'r :  God  !  heed  my  groan. 


SONGS  Of  SOLITUDE. 


173 


ni. 

Out  of  the  fa,tlio;iilodH  clei)tlis — whero  roll 
Waves  of  remorse  o'er  the  troubled  sonl ; 
Wliero  the  tangled  weeds  are  round  my  head  ; 
And  the  last  dim  ray  of  hope  iu  fled — 
From  tlio  dread  abyss  beneath  the  sea, 
God  of  my  life  !  I  Icok  to  Thee. 

IV. 

If  thon  did'st  mark —  with  unsparing  hand, 
All  sins  of  men  ;  who  then  could  stand  ? 
Forgiveness  and  mercy  to  Thee  belong  : 
Tiiy  heart  is  Love ;  Thy  hand  is  strong. 
Tlierefore,  is  this  mine  evil  day, 
Friend,  Father  and  God  !  to  'J'Jjee  I  pray. 


eoxG  XIII. 
Air — Bdicve  mc  if  all  cJ'C. 

I, 

Behold  !  'tis  the  boauteous  approach  of  the  Morning — 

In  her  pure  golden  calm  she  appears ; 
The  green  garb  of  Earth,  with  its  gem-wrought  adorning. 

Is  brioht  with  the  dew  of  her  tears  : 

Tlierc's  a  blush  on  the  stream,  and  a  smile  on  the  forest, 

As  they  wake  from  their  stilly  repose  ; 
\'\''ake  thou  too,  my  glad  soul !  and  to  Him  thou  adorest, 

Devote  the  blest  hour  He  bestows. 

rt. 

Sweet  Morn !  from  her  dewy  trance.  Nature's  awaking 

To  love,  and  to  bliss,  as  before : 
Yet  how  many  the  hearts  that  with  sorrow  are  breaking, 


.W^mwiMHiijjimil  ijjl  ,^ ,  iMWqil^VllliJtC^qpipV* 


J'' 


si] " ' 


1 T4  soNgs  of  somt  r»E . 

Whose  joys  sliiiU  awakrti  no  more-! 
How  inunytlic  hearts,  to  wliich  thy  briijlit  returning 

VVufis  not  the  soft  whisper  of  pence  ! 
IIow  many  the  souls,  that  for  loved  ones  still  yearning, 

Breathe  sij/hs  that  on  earth  ne'er  shall  cease. 

III. 
Fair  cnihleni  of  that  happy  day,  when  the  spirit, 

That  droops  in   aliliction's  cold  {vloou), 
With  *'je  ransomed  of  Jesus,  TIeav'n's  liglit  shall  inherit; 

Oh  !  when  will  that  blest  morning  come  ? 
Oh  !  wlien  will  Ileav'n's  day-spring  of  glory  enlighten 

The  cloud-darkened  depths  of  tiu!  soid  ; 
Sorrow's  dim  faded  eye,  at  its  glu  > 'e,  gladly  brighten; 

True  pleasure  its  transports  unroll  ? 

.so NO  MV- 


Tiif.kk's  an  hour  wben  ihe  spirit,  serene  and  unshaken, 

Tho'  its  bed  the  dark  bosom  cf  Ocean  may  be — 
All  ti'anquilly  slumbers,  while  lemposts  awaken; 

Like  wave-wafted  petn  1,  that  sleeps  on  the  sea. 
As,  rocked  by  the  billow,  th"  sl\i  bird  reposes, 

When  cradled  on  crest  .)f  the  dark-rolling  wave; 
The  desolate  spirit  its  weary  eye  closes, 

Cahu-smiling  in  peace  this  rude  world  never  gava. 


n. 


There's  an  Lour  wlien  the  heart — like  the  dim  flow'r  at  even, 
Thathideth  the  blush  of  its  beauty  in  shade — 

Unnoted  by  mortals,  exlhiles,  but  for  Heaven, 
The  fragrance  of  feelings  that  iievcr  shall  fade. 


SONGS   OF   SOLITUDE. 


176 


Those  feelings  bo  aainc!  may  that  biUmy  rest  cover 
This  .sorrowful  spirit,  with  mantle  of  peace  : 

My  refuge  be  Jesus,  till  life's  storms  be  over; 
And  then,  on  his  bosom,  aU  troubles  shall  cease. 


J  i 


SONG  XV.. 


Mnn  passeth  swiftly  over  the  deep  waters — 
His  home  ia  in  the  harbour  of  tlie  grave. 


On  !  think  not  thus : — there  is  a  home 

Of  bliss  unspeakable, 
Beyond  the  Ocean's  biU'wy  foam — 

Where  ransomed  ones  shall  dvvfil- 

n. 
Tho'  deep  the  waves,  the  surges  dark» 

Swift  wends  the  Soul  away- 
Over  the  Ocean's  breast,  like  bark- 
To  lands  of  etidless  cky. 

m. 

Tho'  in  the  grave  IMan's  form  may  rest. 
While  soars  his  spirit  high  ; 

Tliat  form,  in  radiant  glory  dressed, 
Shall  dwell  above  the  sky. 


Tho'  death  must  eid  our  hopes,  in  this 
Dark  world,  wherein  dwells  woe : 


uwmvm'  i.-i.»%''V.mm"  vtm'"  v  i '"^mw^nnw 


I 


]  7G  SONGS  OF  SOLITUDE. 

Life  liath  no  bouiiils — eternal  bliss, 
No  limit  to  its  flow. 

V. 

A  peaceful  port,  extends  the  grave- 
Where  wearied  frames  shall  find 

A  refuge,  from  tlie  stormy  wave  : 
Not  so  the  godlike  mind. 

vr. 
Tlie  hoav'n-born  Soul  nor  sleeps,  nor  dies  ; 

But  boundless,  oliainless,  free — 
It  wins,  thru'  Christ,  beyond  the  skies, 

Bliss — immortality. 

SONG  XVI. 

Am — Aiken  Aroon. 

I. 

Savioi'ii  !  we  look  to  Thee, 
From,  doplh  of  woo  ; 

jDo  'J'hoii  our  Helper  bo, 
When  lloods  o'erfiow  : 

When,  in  his  rage  and  pow'r, 

Satan  v/ould  fain  devour; 

Be  Tliou  our  k5trGnoth.  undTow'r — 
Thine  aid  bestow. 

II. 
Wlien,  thro'  tlu"s  wilderness, 

Darkliug  we  rove — 
Anguish,  and  deep  distress. 

Our  spirits  prove ; 


SONGS  OF  SOLITUDE. 


n? 


Oh !  wuide  us  lest  we  stray ; 
Smile  all  the  clouds  away — 
Beam  on  our  souls  the  ray 
Of  Hoav'nIvLove, 


f 


III. 
When—upon  Ocean's  breast 

Tossed  to  and  fro, 
j'aiii  would  we  be  at  rest, 

From  storms  that  blow— 
From  billows  high  and  vast. 
From  the  infuriate  blast : 
Guide  us,  till  these  bo  passed— 

Peace  let  us  know. 

IV. 

When,  on  the  gloomy  brink 
Of  the  sad  stream, 

Pause  we  ;  and  fear  to  sink, 
Lost  to  life's  beam  : 

Put  all  our  fears  to  flight, 

Shed  on  our  souls  the  light. 

That  makes  Death's  darkness  bright- 
Glorious  its  gleam ! 


*«■# 


:     f^ 


SONG  xvir, 
AiR—Loffie  O'Buchan, 


TiiE  shadows  are  lieeiing, 
The  night-clouds  have  flown ; 


16 


■'flf  '■■■"?>  ■ 


WW 


178 


SOKGS  OF   SOLITUDE. 

The  sun,  as  a  monarch, 
Looks  down  from  his  throne 

The  shadows  arc  fleeting, 
The  clouds  are  away — 

Oh !  why  is  not  sorrow 
As  fleeting  as  they  ? 

•a. 
The  Morn,  in  her  beauty. 

Comes  forth  as  a  bride, 
In  bloom  of  her  blushes— 

The  sun  at  her  side : 
She  smiles  over  ocean. 

The  meadows  doth  kiss ; 
Each  flow 'ret  awakens 

To  love,  and  to  bliss. 

iir. 
Oh  i  when  will  the  dimness— » 

The  darkness — be  fled, 
That  hangs  o*er  my  spirit, 

Bewailing  the  dead? 
Then,  only,  when  Jesus 

Smiles  down  from  above ; 
And  lights  all  my  bosom 

With  glory,  and  love. 

BONO  XVIII. 

I. 
O  Life  !  thou'rt  like  the  stream* 
Tbfit  quickly  glides  away  ; 


m 


«ONGS  OF  SOLITUDE. 


I'n 


O  Bliss  !  thou'rt  as  the  morning. 
Whose  blushes  will  not  stay. 

The  stream  rolls  swift  its  waters  *, 
Morn's  transient  tints  are  gone : 

Thus  fleets  the  bliss,  the  light  of  life- 
Each  hope  that  lured  us  on. 

n. 
Tho'  quick  the  stream  glides  past, 

And  soon  Morn's  blushes  fleet ; 
Yet — is  there  not,  my  Spirit ! 

A  life,  a  bliss,  more  sweet; 
A  dawn  of  fairer  beauty — 

A  morn  of  purer  ray  ? 
Soul !  may  the  light  of  Heav'n  be  thine, 

Which  ne'er  shall  fade  away  4 


80NG  XIX. 

Am— "o/i  in  the  stilly  night:'' 

1. 

When  first  young  Morning's  blush, 
Its  sunny  smile  diffusing, 

Tints  Earth  with  roseate  flush- 
Eastern  skies  sutrusing ; 

A  spirit  breathes 

O'er  flow'r-decked  wreaths, 

That  Love,  and  joy,  are  twining ; 

While  Faith's  clear  eye 

Ix)oks  up  on  hi^h, 
To  worlds  where  bliss  is  shining  : 


i 


4 


1*0 


SONGS  OF  SOLITUDE. 


Then,  at  the  morning-title, 
My  spirit  high  is  soaring  ; 

Heav'n  flings  its  portals  wide. 
To  souls  their  Lord  adoring. 

n. 
Then,  then  my  braom  dreams 

No  more  of  clouds  returning ; 
Heav'n's  light  around  me  beams^ 

Love's  pure  flame  is  burning  :. 
Sorrow's  drear  form, 
And  mist,  and  storm. 

Have  from  my  prospect  fleeted;. 
And  Joy  alone, 
As  on  her  throne. 

Within  my  breast  is  seated  : 
Then,  at  the  morninif-tidc, 

My  spirit  high  is  soaring  j 
Heav'n  flings  its  portals  wide, 

To  souls  their  Lord  adoring. 

in. 
Pray'r,  then,  on  dove-like  wing, 

Its  gentle  pinion  plying — 
Wafts  me  where  angels  singf, 

And  beauty  blooms  undying  ; 
Like  odours  free, 
From  incense-tree, 

With  birds  sweet  music  blending- 
In  that  blest  calm. 
Devotion's  bajm. 

Us  healing  pow'r  is  lending  i 


* ! 


SONGS  OF  SOLITrDE. 


181 


11 ',' 


Then,  at  the  morning-tide, 

My  spirit  high  is  soaring  •» 
Heav'n  flings  its  portals  wide, 

To  souls  their  Lord  adoring. 

IV. 

On !  On  !  where  gush  the  streams 

Of  Life's  unfailing  fountain ; 
On  !  where  His  heauty  beams 

O'er  Zion's  heav'nly  mountain  i 
I  mount,  I  rove. 
Thro'  realms  of  love ; 

Where  glory's  dawn-light  springing. 
Gilds  with  its  ray, 
An  endless  day ; 

There  my  glad  soul  is  winging  v 
Thus— still,  at  morning-tide, 

My  spirit  high  is  soaring ; 
Heav'n  flings  its  portals  widt, 

To  souls  their  Lord  adoring^ 


I  \ 


i 


! 


SONG   XZ, 
I. 

Tell  me  not  of  joy,  of  blisses— • 

Pleasures  on  the  passing  wave- 
In  a  world  so  dark  as  this  is ; 

Beauty,  glory,  bright  and  brave ; 
Pow'r  and  pomp,  and  might,and  splendour, 
Riches,  honour,  wealth  and  fame  :— 

16* 


iJ 


182 


SONGS  OF  POLITUDE. 


Lovely  Woman,  true  and  tender, 
To  this  heart  a  dearer  name  ! 


n. 

Woman's  C3'c — enchantment  glancing^, 

Woman's  smile — bewitching',  sweet ; 
Woman's  soul  and  form  entrancing— 

Beanty,  kindness,  love,  complete  : 
Worth  far  more  than  worlds  of  treasure, 

Dearest  bliss  that  mortals  know  ! 
What  were  glory,  pomp,  and  pleasure, 

Without  Love  ?  but  gorgeous  woe ! 

III. 
Tell  not  of  proud  Triumph's  glory. 

Burning  on  the  victor's  brow ; 
Tell  not  high  Ambition's  story. 

Warrior's  deed,  and  knighthood's  vow  : 
Kingly  crowns,  and  gems  resplendent, 

Sceptral  sway,  or  lordly  line- 
Majesty,  and  thrones  transcendent, 

Dazzled  ne'er  this  heart  of  mine. 

IV. 

Deathless  Fame  is  but  a  fable, 

Phantom  of  th'  illuded  brain; 
Riches,  as  the  sand,  unstable — 

Beauty  withers — splendours  wane  :• 
Honour,  pow'r,  are  evanescent — 

Soon  find  wings,  wherewith  to  fly ; 
Changeful  as  the  Moon,  whose  crescent 

Leaves  to  darkness  all  the  sky. 


•I 


SONGS  OF  SOLITUDE. 


U3 


V. 

Love's  dcllglits  too  dear  I  deemed  of— 

But,  alas  !  those  blisses  sweet, 
Whose  continuance  I  dreamed  of,. 

Sped  away  on  winged  feet. 
Earthly  joys  no  more  deceive  me— ^ 

Transient  joys  that  will  not  stay  : 
Mine  be  bliss  that  ne'er  shall  leave  me^ 

Endless  bliss,  more  bright  than  they. 


') 


,J,i,  i 


S0NC4  XXI. 


Whkn  days  £row  dark— the  skies  o'crcast— 

While  all  within  is  gloom : 
When  scattered  by  th'  autumnal  blast, 

Each  flow'r  of  fairest  bloom  ; 
When  flow'rs  that  smiled,  and  buds  that  breathed; 

Lie  withering  in  decay ; 
And  hopes,  that  round  the  heart  cnwreathed, 

Are  with'ring,  too,  as  they  : 

IX. 

When  Earth  seems  but  a  wilderness, 

Where  dark  the  soul  must  rove  ;. 
What  can  dispel  its  dreariness, 

What  can  a  solace  prove  ? 
Not  hopes,  on  which  the  worldling  builds 

His  airy  fabric  slight- 
Not  the  false  beam,  his  gloom  that  gild?,. 

With  vain  illusive  light. 


1  I 


184 


SONGS  OF  eauTVtrt. 


III. 
No !  when  the  cloudy  day  hath  drawn 

Its  shadow  o'er  the  soul ; 
We  look  for  Heav'n's  ethereal  dawn, 

Suns  of  more  blest  control : 
We  spurn  the  hopes  that  worldlings  cheer ; 

And  not  unjoyful  deem — 
Tho'  skieL  be  dark — a  day  is  near 

Of  cloudless,  endless,  beam. 

SONG    XXII. 


1. 

As  THE  bird,  on  tireless  wing, 
Over  ocean  journeying 

To  some  calmer  clin>e ; 
Thus  the  Soul,  on  pinions  bright, 
Heav'nward  should  direct  its  flight — 
To  the  land  of  love,  and  light, 

'Vond  the  realms  of  time. 

n. 
As  the  arrow  from  tho  string. 
Tipped  with  flame,  aloft  doth  spring  ; 

Thus  on  high  the  Soul, 
Winged  with  hallowed  Llest,  desire. 
Wrapt  in  love's  unfading  fire, 
Upward — onward — should  aspire 

To  its  hcav'nly  goal. 


BONGS  OF  SOLITUDE. 


180 


in. 

As  the  stream — that,  from  tlie  hill, 
Rolls  its  clear  ppllucid  rill 

Onward,  tow'rd  the  sea; 
Thus  llie  Soul,  from  youth  to  age, 
Pure,  and  peaceful — calm,  and  sage- 
Sliould  pursue  its  pilgrimage 

Tovv'rd  Eternity. 

IV. 

As,  at  morn — the  early  dew, 
To  the  clouds  of  roseate  hue, 

Tranquilly  doth  tend ; 
Slumbers,  there,  on  jNlorning's  cheek, 
Blushinnf  brjoht  with  crimson  streak  : 
Thus  the  Soul  its  rest  siiould  seek — 

Ileav'nward  thus  ascend. 

BONO    XXIII. 


MY  FATHER'S  HOME. 


My  Father's  Home !  how  sweet  the  sound. 

When  tempests  sadden  all  the  air — 
When  darkness  veils  the  prospect  round  ! 

Fain  would  my  weary  Soul  be  there. 
Glad  fields  are  smiling  round  that  Home, 

And  bright  streams  cheer  the  sunny  glade ; 
And  soft»winged  whispers  bid  me  come ; 

And  friends,  in  glitl'ring  garb  arrayed. 


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186 


SONGS  OF   SOLITDDB. 


n. 

My  Father's  Home  !  a  golden  star 

Is  burning  o'er  the  mountain's  crest; 
Its  ray  of  beauty  points  afar, 

To  that  dear  Home,  the  land  of  rest : 
Blazes  a  watch-fire  o'er  the  foam 

Of  Ocean's  Intervening  tide ; 
It  leads  vvhere  lies  my  f.Uher's  Home, 

True  beacon  o'er  the  waters  wide. 

m. 

That  Star— tliat  Watch-light,  'yond  th'  abyss- 

Who  feeds  their  flames  with  living  fire  ? 
Who  bade  them  cheer  an  hour  like  this, 

And  wake  for  Homo  the  fond  desire  ? 
That  star  is  Hope — that  beacon  Love — 

Faith  views  those  friends  upon  the  shore : 
But,  had  we  not  a  Friend  above. 

Their  radiant  forms  were  &ccn  no  more. 


SONG    XXIV. 

Am — Harp  of  Tara. 

I. 
To  LOOK  from  earth — its  fleeting  bliss- 

With  heav'n,  enlightened  eye, 
To  lands  of  fairer  bloom  than  this, 

And  heave  the  wishful  sigh  ; 
To  view  the  fadeless  realms  above, 

And  Jesus  smiling  there— 
And  breathe  unutterable  love, 

This — this  is  Prayer. 


SONGS    OF    SOUTUDE. 


n. 


187 


When  the  deep  heart,  at  midnight  hour, 

Vibrates  a  solemn  tone, 
While  thought  awakes  in  trance  of  power; 

To  bend  before  the  Throne- 
Set  free  from  earth's  entangling  thrall, 

Its  pleasure,  and  its  care, 
To  feci  that  God  is  all  in  all— 

This— this  is  Prayer. 

jn. 
When  sorrow,  with  oppressive  weight- 
Affliction,  wrings  the  soul ; 
When  droops  the  heart  disconsolate, 

Waves  roar,  and  thunders  roll ; 
When  anguish  racks  th'  encumb'ring  clod, 

While  whispers  fell  despair- 
To  seek  on  high  relief  in  God, 
This— this  is  Prayer. 

IV. 

When  bursts  temptation,  like  a  flood, 

Around  in  all  its  pow'r— 
When  lion-like,  intent  on  blood, 

Satan  would  fain  devour ; 
When  sinks  the  soul,  the  spirit  faints. 

Weak  flesh  dark  visions  scare- 
To  breathe  aloft  our  sad  complaints, 

This— this  is  Prayer. 


188 


SONGS  OF   SOLITUDE. 


V. 

When  sunny  scenes  around  us  rise, 

When  summer  flow'rs  smile  near — 
When,  cahn,  on  bright  unclouded  skiea 

We  gaze,  while  falls  a  tear; 
When  feels  the  soul  its  guilt  forgiv'n, 

And  sighs  that  all  might  share 
The  beauty,  and  the  bliss  of  heav'n— 

This — this  is  Prayer. 

VI. 

Wlien  lowly  on  a  dying  bed, 

While  life  ebbs  fast  away — 
When  earthly  things  are  all  but  fled, 

Ere  dawns  eternal  day  : 
Like  Stephen,  when  the  stones  were  hurled- 

Witli  Jesu's  suppliant  care, 
Mercy,  implore  for  all  the  world, 

This — this  is  Prayer. 

SONG   XXV. 


NIGHT. 


I. 

When  the  fire-flies  are  glancing. 
Like  gems  in  their  flight — 

The  star-jewels  blazing, 
Mid  tresses  of  night ; 


I 


SONGS  OF  SOLITUDE. 


189 


When  the  proud  forest  flingeth 

Its  arms  on  the  gale ; 
And  dim  flow'rs — soft  breathing — 

Sweet  odours  exhale ; 

II. 
When  the  gentle  moon  playeth, 

Where  ripples  the  stream — 
The  silver  waves  dancing, 

With  joy,  in  her  beam ; 
By  osier-fringed  border, 

The  calm  waters  glide ; 
And  heav'n,  with  its  azure, 

Their  crystal  hath  dyed ; 

m. 
When  the  voice  of  the  river 

Hath  sunk  to  a  sigh — 
The  rush  of  the  rapids, 

Like  music,  floats  by ; 
When  the  blue  lake,  like  ocean 

Is  smoothed  by  a  spell- 
In  magic  of  moonbeams, 

Its  waters  sleep  well ; 

IV. 

While  fresh  on  its  bosom, 
Dew-spangled  by  night, 

Each  islet  green-tufted 
Looks  lovely  in  light ; 

O'er  its  shadow  of  stillness, 
Bends  beauteous  in  rest— 
LI 


190 


SONGS  OF   SOLITUDE. 


Like  bark  moored  in  haven, 
Where  storms  ne'er  molest  •, 

▼. 

When  the  deer  lie  reposinp 

liy  fountain,  and  spring— 
Tlio  beaver  lone  slcepeth, 

The  jay  folds  its  wing ; 
The  stately  stag  tosses 

Ilisanllers  on  high, 
In  slnmbcr  still  dieaniinjr 

That  mornins  is  nigh  : 

VI. 

Wlien  the  pine  lifteth  lordly 

Its  trunk,  as  a  tower — 
In  gloom  of  its  branches, 

The  birds  find  a  bovver ; 
The  hunter,  toil-wearied, 

His  couch  spreads  beneath — 
Where  grassy  stems,  twining, 

The  moss-bank  en  wreathe  ; 

vn. 

Oh  !  then, — in  her  trances — 
My  spirit  soars  high  ; 

Like  falcon — wild  fleeth 
To  homes  in  the  sky : 

In  that  hour  of  deep  beauty, 
Revealings  are  given ; 

My  soul  teems  with  visions- 
Love,  Glory,  and  Heaven. 


i 


. 


i 


^ 


NOTES  ON  TH3 


SONaS    OF    GO  LIT 


E. 


i 


it 


Page  1G5.  Song  vi.  # 

Tlie  several  poems,  which  the  Editor  has  hitherto  met  with, 
coinnicncing  'Weep  not  for  liim  that  clietli,'  (or  in  other  very  sim- 
ihir  words,)  are  founded  on  Jer.  xxir.  1 0  ;  a  passiigo  which  treats  of 
tho  miseries  of  captives.  But  this  Poem  has,  for  its  subject,  the 
alHiction  spoken  of  in  Ezck.  xxiv.  Ui ;  and  1  Thc3.  iv.  13 — IP. 

Page  108,  Songvn.  stz.  1.  9. 

And  sirkc  aUthe  dcuj. 

meaning,  in  a  spiritual  sonae,  "while  it  is"  (\o\)  "day:"  (because) 
"tlie  night  coineth,  when  no  man  can  v/ork,."  John  ix.  4 ;  and 
xii.  35. 

Pago  171,  Song  xr.     See  Ilosea,  xiii.  11. 

Pago  172.  Song  xii. 

The  first  and  fourth  stanzas,  arc  a  paraphrase  of  Ps.  cxxx.  1, 
2,  3,  4,  7. 

Page  188,  Song  xxv. 

In  this  instance,  Dr.  Haskins  not  only  composed  the  poem  to 
a  certain  Air ;  singing,  mentally,  as  ho  wrote :  but  also,  (as,  in 
som  ither  cases,  he  shov/ed  liimself  fully  capable,)  modified  the 
Air,  in  a  beautiful  manner,  to  suit  his  own  subject  and  style.  Tlie 
original  melody  was  that  of  "Oh  !  when  shall  I  sec  Jesus  ?"  a 
hymn,  which  he,  and  his  friend,  used  to  sing  together. 


I 


' 


OCCASIONAL  PIECES. 


17* 


'9 


iuFi,;"/iiii;i»)ll|ifjpipmiji  ».iP().^«»-  '»   i.iup^iui  a^m^pipin^ 


OCCASIONAL  PIECES. 


THE  FLOWERS  OF  THE  GRAVE. 


I. 


The  wind  breathes  softly  o'er  her  verdant  bed ; 
And  there  the  dun  flow'rs  wake  beneath  the  Moon, 

And  on  the  breeze  of  night  their  fragrance  shed- 
Lovely  as  she,  and  to  decay  as  soon. 


U. 


The  lily — meekest  dangliter  of  the  clime, 

The  wind-flower — drooping  her  unsheltered  head, 

The  sweet,  pale  primrose— early  in  its  prime, 
Are  mourning  for  the  beauties  which  are  fled. 


III. 


The  vi'let— blue  as  tint  of  maiden's  eye, 

When  its  glance  glistens  thro'  aflfection's  tearj 

The  hyacinth— with  bells  of  azure  dye,    ' 
Shedding  sweet  melody  in  Fancy's  ear : 


IV. 


Like  ann-ols — o'er  the  consecrated  clav, 

They  bend  in  beauty,  while  their  bright  eyes  weep. 
How  holy,  and  how  innocent,  are  they,     •  •    .  ^  ^  -  «  • 

Who,  as  those  vernal  flowers,  their  pure  souls  keep ! 


r 


19Q 


OCCASIONAL     PIECES. 


TO  MY  HEART. 


Go  to  tlio  grave,  wlicrcin  lliy  loved  one  lieth— 
Go,  my  sad  heart !  and  ponder  for  awhile  ; 

E'en  as  unto  her  nest  the  ring-dove  hieth  : 
Go — and  let  Metn'ry  there  thy  grief  beguile. 

II. 
Hasten,  my  heart !  where  tearful  thoughts  await  thee. 

Dreams  of  the  blessedness  that  once  was  thine  : 
Oh  !  think — there's  nought  on  Earth,  can  reinstate  thee, 

In  that  brief  bliss,  so  transient,  so  divine. 

III. 
No  more — no  more !  the  light  of  life  hath  parted  : 

Joy  comes  no  more — like  dawn  of  cheerful  day — 
To  gild  the  gloom ;  wherein  the  broken-hearted 

Lie  down,  to  dream  of  bliss  too  bright  to  stay. 

IV. 

.Vet  be  it  so !  this  world  was  made  for  sorrow : 

'  But  there's  a  land,  beyond  the  silent  tomb ; 
Where  suns,  that  darkly  set,  shall  find  a  morrow — 
Loved  flowers  that  die,  shall  boast  immortal  bloom. 

THE  FAREWELL. 


Farewell  !  I  turn  me  from  the  sod,  where  sleeps  thy  lifelesi 

dust; 
No  costly  marble  marks  the  spot,  nor  urn,  nor  breathing  bust ; 


OCCASIONAL  PIECES. 


197 


ee, 


feless 


t: 


The  wild  wind  of  the  forest  bids  the  long  grass  lonely  wave ; 
And  warm  tears,  from  a  faithful  heart,  are  gushing  o'er  thy  gmvo. 


n. 


The  sullen  wind  swoops  rudely,  yet  not  in  anger  by; 
It  bids  the  branches  mourn  above,  the  light  leaves  whisper  n"  '. : 
The  children  of  tuu  /^  est  stand,  with  young  and  graceful  form— 
They  have    i  ■•  sickness  of  the  heart,  nor  care's  corroding  worm. 

m. 
Farewell !  farewell  to  ashos,  that  slumber  in  the  gloom— 
IVlortality's  dim  shadow— dreary  stillness  of  the  tomb  ; 
Tlie  silence,  and  the  mystery,  whence  thought— in  trance  of 

pow'r, 
Visions,  in  dark  ideal  dream,  the  future's  untried  hour. 

IV. 

Oh !  could  those  tears  revive  thee ;  as  early  dews,  in  spring, 
Recall  the  fairy  flow'rs  to  life,  when  groves  are  blossoming- 
Bid  Nature's  cheek  retrieve  its  tints  of  beauty,  and  of  pride ; 
Not  fruitless  were  the  tears,  that  fall  o'er  one  that  loved  and 
died,      m 

V. 

Farewell !  again  I  turn  to  the  unfeeling,  thoughtless  crowd—       'W 
An  icy  coldness  at  my  heart,  on  my  dark  soul  a  cl^ud  : 
Wafted  on  wing  of  time,  that  cloud  may  vanish  and  depart— 
What  pow'r,  what  charm,  can  chase  away  the  coldness  ol  the 
heart? 

VI. 

Farewell !  I  cease  to  weep  now,  for  Earth's  elysian  flow'rs,        ■$» 
Gone  with  the  sumvaer-gilding  of  love's  evanescent  hours  : 


sp'='  ■"''^'^"^^f'apiBWTFwvpii^ . 


198 


OCCASIONAL   PIECES. 


'^ 


I  mourn  not  that  my  sun  hath  set  behind  yon  awful  sleep  ; 
Where  flatt'riug  lights  of  life  sink  down,  to  everlasting  sleep. 

vir. 
I  mourn  to  think  thii  bosom  grows  all  passionless,  and  cold  : 
Save  when,  as    now,    sorrow  bids  wake,   emotions   deep,  and 

old: 
I  grieve  to  think  my  spirit  Kirns  no  more  with  fervour  high — 
But  deadly   dxmps   oppress  its  wings,  and  cliiia  it   from    I'-'J 

sky. 

viri. 
Yet  darkling  as  I  wander,  in  gloom  of  night,  away — 
Slow  seems  to  rise  upon  my  view,  like  herald  of  the  day, 
A    beauteous  star: and  as  it  shines,  in  radiance  o'er   the 

deep, 
Aatill,  small  voice,  is  heard  from  Heav'n — 'sad  mourner!  cease 

to  weep,'  I 


^' 


THE  FLOWERS  OF  PARADISE. 


It  matters  nothing,  at  what  hour  of  day 
The  righteous  fall  asleep. — Milman. 


# 


I. 


It  matters  not  tho'  early — as  dawn's  blushes  on  the  tii'e, 
Thy  transient  life  of  promiso  piissed,  thine  earthly  day  hath  died ; 
It  matters  not  tho"  vanishing — as  primal  hues  of  morn, 
Thy  form  of  beauty  fled  aw-.y,  and  loft  me  thus  forlorn, 


OCCASIONAL   PIECES. 


199 


n. 


For  there's  a  land,  wliore  blossoms  of  tliis  cold  world  all  revive  ; 
Where,  dipped  in  silver  dews  of  Ileav'n,  their  fragrance  is  alive : 
Where  chosen  flowers  of  paradise,  the  fairest  and  the  best, 
Are  culled,  and  sweetly  gathered,  to  tlie  Saviour's  sacred  br.^ast  : 


nr 


And  in  that  land  of  loveliness,  of  radiance  and  delight, 
I  trust  that  thou  art  blooming,  and  thine  ej'o  of  joy  is  bright : 
IJrie-liter  than  when  it  loolv'd  on  me.  tiiro'  dimness,  and  thro'  death  : 
When  that  kind  voice  hailed  fondly,  with  its  all  but  parting  breath. 


IV. 


The  chosen  fiow'rs  of  paradise  are  gathered  to  their  rest ; 
And,  angel-like,  they  slumber  on  the  Saviour's  loving  breast : 
Jesus !  thy  hand  h;is  culled  ihcm  hence,  with  Thee  to  shine  on 


hioh- 


-m'- 


TSW. 


'Twere  madness  then  to  mourn,  \\hcn  such  are  taken  to  tlie  sky. 

V. 

Rather  'twere  meet,  with  lioly  joy,  to  hail  the  happy  honr, 

When  such  are  placed  in  genial  clime  beyond  the  tempest's  pow'r  . 

> 
B  It  bitter  wailings  for  the  dead  our  frailty  oft  bespeak  ; 

The  spirit  nobly  looks  aloft — the  flesh,  alas !  is  weak. 

vr. 
No  winter's  wind  can  stir  thorn  now,  with  rude  and  gustful  sway  . 
No  thunder-cloud  can  darken  o'er  their  pure  ethereal  day  : 
No  lightning-bolt  those  tender  flow'rs  of  vernal  bloom  bereaves ; 
And  death  comes  not  lo  wither  all  the  freshness  of  their  leaves. 

VII. 

How  beautiful  I'le  sleep  of  those,  who.  earthly  travel  past, 
In  the  harbour  of  their  heav'nly  home  new  gently  rest  at  last ! 


»V 


# 


200 


OCCASIONAL  PIECES. 


*, 


I- 


^r 


Who  gently  sleep  in  Jesus,  In  that  slumber  calm  and  deep — 
When  the  heart,  the  heart  is  waking ;  and  but  pain,  and  sorrow 
bleep. 

VIII. 

Behold !  their  griefs  and  woes  have  gone,  like  dreary  dreams 

away ; 
And  morning  comes,  the  herald  of  a  blest,  undying  day  : 
Eternity  beams  glory  on  the  waking  of  the  soul ; 
Sunlike,  iuunortal,  boundless  years  of  bliss  begin  to  roll. 

IX. 

jran  o'er  deep  waters  passes  thus  to  regions  far  away. 

His  home  is  not,  upon  this  earth,  in  mansions  of  decay : 

Ilis  home  is  not  as  some  have  deemed,  in  chambers  of  the  grave ; 

But  in  that  bright,  unchanging  world,  tliro'  Ilim  who  died  to  save. 

•-\    *>       "*'  X. 

Farewell !   and  may  my  soul's  best  love  still  crown  thy  memory ; 
For,  next  unto  the  Saviour's  claim,  that  love  was  but  for  thee  : 
And,  if  to  tread  the  courts  above  to  me  it  may  be  giv'n — 
Oh !  may  I  meet  thee  once  again,  with  Jesus,  and  in  Heav'n. 

LASTING  LOVE. 

I. 
The  sun  came  forth  as  a  bridegroom  gay — 
•  Bright  blazed  on  his  brow  the  crown  of  day  ; 
And  he  kissed  young  earth — his  glowing  bride— 
Who  smiled,  and  blushed,  in  her  beauty's  pride : 
Her  cheek,  ere  that  modest  grace  went  by. 
Was  touched  with  tints  of  deep  crimsan  dye. 


m 


OCCASIONAL  PIECeS. 


201 


ep— 
nd  sorrow 


y  dreams 


1. 


f 


he  grave  *, 
ied  to  save. 


y  memory ; 
for  thee : 

leav'n. 


Km^ 


n. 

Tlie  gcntlo-cycd  Moon — ho  kissed  lior  too ; 
Her  wan  brow  blushed,  as  she  quick  withdrew  : 
A  sister's  love,  all  ssaintly  and  meek, 
Gilded  with  joy  her  departing  check  ; 
And  th'  cnraplured  lovers  were  left  alone, 
Breathing  their  bliss  in  tenderest  tone. 

III. 
Swift  sped  the  hours,  on  that  blessed  morn — 
Bloomed  roses  around  without  a  thorn ; 
Sang  birds  of  beauty  their  nuptial  song; 
Spake  the  stream  of  love,  as  it  dimpled  along  : 
The  heav'ns  seemed  too  bright,  and  the  skies  too  fair. 
For  rude  winds  to  ruffle  the  stillness  there. 

IV. 

But  a  change  came  o'er  that  delighted  hour, 

And  the  broad  heav'ns  shook  with  the  tempest's  pow"r ; 

And  there  swept  a  sound  from  the  groaning  trees. 

Like  the  sullen  roar  of  the  storm  swep-tseas  ; 

And  a  black  cloud  rose  those  lovers  between, 

And  the  Sun's  glad  eye  was  no  longer  seen. 

V. 
And  the  flow'rs  lay  strewed  on  the  swelt'ring  ground, 
And  the  birds  sang  not ;  but  the  storm,  around. 
Uplifted  its  voice,  with  thunder  blent : 
Nor  longer  the  stream  sweet  music  lent. 
But  rushed  'gainst  the  rocks  with  terrific  roar  y 
And  Earth's  gay  vision  at  once  was  o'er. 

18 


20i 


QCCASIOKAL  7IECSS. 


I 


VI. 

Thus,  mortal— beware !  soon  q  change  may  come-^ 
Love's  eye  grow  dark,  and  his  voice  wax  dumb : 
The  thrilling  tone  of  the  bliss-breathed  word, 
The  song  of  the  stream,  the  hymn  of  the  bird, 
The  liglu,  the  transport,  the  music,  the  flow'rs — 
May  leave  thee  quite  lone,  when  the  tempest  lours. 

vir. 
Yet  deem  not  that  thine  is  a  joyless  fate, 
Tho'  such  desert  thee — or  desolate. 
There  is  beauty  above,  and  light,  arid  bliss, 
To  cheer — to  make  glad,  an  hour  like  this ; 
There's  a  Sun  in  the  heav'ns,  that  no  clouds',  can  hide 
'Tis  the  Love  of  thy  Lord — the  Crucified. 

vni. 
Lift  but  unto  Him  thy  tearful  eye, 
When  frail  hopes  vanish,  and  storms  are  nigh  : 
Then  a  glorious  beam  from  the  world  alove —  "^ 
A  sun-stecpod  ray  from  tho  fount  of  Love, 
Shall  halo  thy  heart,  in  afHiction's  night ; 
And  point  thy  path  to  the  realms  of  light. 

IX. 

Earth  !  thou  canst  not  give,  or  take  away, 
The  pow'r  of  that  light — the  bliss  of  thiitray. 
Sorrow  !  we  burst — we  bound  from  thy  thrall- 
Go  !  weave,  for  Time's  joys,  ihy  fun'ral  pa)l ; 
Ours  is  a  life,  a  love,  and  a  joy, 
Thy  change  comes  not  near,  nor  thy  frowns  destroy. 


*) 


OCCASIONAL  PIECES. 


203 


WE  SHALL  BUT  WAKE  TO  LOVE. 


Wk  shall  but  wako  again  to  love, 
When  we  cast  off  the  slumber  deep 

Of  death  ;  whose  trance — tho'  dark  it  prove- 
Is  but  a  mode  of  sleep. 


It. 


We  shall  but  sleep,  and  waken  :  when 
Our  final  slumber  passes — we 

Shall  wake  to  life,  and  joy  again, 
To  love  eternally. 


in. 


If  there  be  bliss  beyond  the  sky, 
If  there  bo  happiness  above — 

If  there  bo  hope,  or  Heav'n  on  high ; 
We  shall  but  wake  to  love. 


TV. 


Aye  !  love ;  no  false  enthusiast  dream. 

While  myriad  million  ages  roll — 
Eternity's  bright  glories  beam — 

Loves  on  the  Christian's  soul. 


T-A-- 


304 


OCCASIONAL  PIECES. 


To  Mt  OLD,  TRIED,  AND  trNFLINCIflNG  FRIEKD, 

HENRY  BALDWIN,  Jun. 


FiiiEND  of  my  widowed,  my  bereaved  hours! 

Whose  cheerful  coming  fills  mine  eye  with  tears—* 
Pleasant  unto  my  soul  thy  face  appears, 

As  IMornin^fj's  beam  unto  the  droopinji;  flow'rs; 

When — wet  with  wecpin<T,and  with  frequent  show'rs— ' 
They  ope  their  eyelids  to  the  goMcn  ray, 
That  bids  them  bloom  beneath  the  smile  of  day. 
How  oft-tinio  hath  the  gloom  dispersed  away, 

When  thou  art  near  ;  my  Soul  assumed  her  pow'rs ; 
IMy  Muse — that  long  in  torpid  trance  had  lain — 
Put  forth  her  strength,  and  breathed  a  thrilling  strain  '. 

Friend  of  my  licart !  I  view  thee  hero  again  : 
And  tho'  the  storm  of  life  upon  me  lours — 

A'rt  thou  not  lie,  whom  long  my  heart,  and  brain, 
Tlirobbed  to  bcliold  :  whoso  social  aspect,  near, 
Dispelled  the  frown  of  howling  Winter  drear ; 

And  gave  to  snnmier  hours  a  calm  delight. 

Whose  mem'ry  lives,  while  months,  years,  speed  their  flight 

n. 
Cornel  and, once  more,  let  social  cheerful  talk 

]\[ake  glad  the  day ;  while  Poesy,  the  Queen 

Of  beauteous  thought,  uplifts  her  form  between 

Twin  sons  of  fancy,  in  their  musing  walk. 


OCCASIONAL  FIECES. 


205 


tm 


nJ 


sht 


Let*8  woo  the  rose  upon  her  slender  stalk, 
And  scent  the  violet  in  the  shad'wy  vale  ; 
Converse  of  many  a  pleasant,  wondrous  tale  : 
Till  the  broad  Moon — lifting  her  aspect  pale 

Above  the  forest — warn  us  of  the  hour, 

Wlien  wearied  man  should  sleep,  as  doth  the  flow'r. 
Then  homo  returning  to  our  peaceful  cot, 

Together  let  us  kneel  to  Him  on  high — 
Asking  His  grace,  to  bless  our  lowly  lot. 
With  those  who  in  our  prayers  are  ne'er  forgot ; 

And  that  we  all  may  meet,  above  the  starry  sky. 

ra. 

Oh  !  why  sliould  we — to  whom  the  hope  is  giv'n, 
The  priceless  hope — that  when  our  earthly  frame 
Can  but  with  kindred  dust  communion  claim, 

Our  souls  shall  soar,  and  live  with  Christ  in  Heav'n— 

Say,  why  should  we,  like  boughs  close-twining,  riv'n 
By  tlie  impetuous  thunder's  fi'ry  blast — 
Why  should  our  social  leaves,  asunder  cast — 
Be  strewed  upon  the  whirlwind,  thro'  the  vast      -"^ 

Desert ;  where  dwell  the  forms  of  friendship  severed  : 

Oh  I  in  its  dream,  this  brain  was  ne'er  so  fevered, 
As  not  to  recognise — or,  with  dim  eye, 
INIistake  my  friend  for  foe— when  he  stood  by. 

Th'  imperial  oak  is  oft  by  lightning  shivered ; 
The  princely  pine  is  oft ' i  fragments  strown : 

Oil !  be  my  spirit,  in  its  strength,  delivered 
From  friendship's  wreck ;  and  love  for  aye  its  own  ! 


18* 


Fti 


llllil  Ul  i|^   "K|9^ 


'^'T[W"''"T*Wl';»    U 


' 


I!  ' 


20G  OCCASIONAL  riECES. 

TO  MY  INFANT  DAUGHTER. 

I. 

IMv  Dauglitcr ;  as  I  g^zo  upon  thy  check, 
]\Iantling  with  rosos  red,  my  hopes  arise 
As  from  the  grave  ;  passes  before  mine  eyes — 
With  sorrow  dim,  and,  for  that  I  am  weak. 
Clouded  with  tears — a  dream  of  future  days.: 
In  loveli  :Ci>^  r.iid  ligiit  tliat  vision  strays 
lie  fore  uvj,  as  I  wake  at  monung's  hour. 
And  view  thee  smiling  near,  my  forest-flow'r ! 

Spirit  of  joy  !  the  v/intcr  of  my  heart 
CjladJendthy  glow  ;  as  the  warm  flush  of  spring — 
When  nature's  realms,  to  hor  voice  echoing, 

iBurst  into  lifo,  into  now  being  start ; 
Thro'  universal  earth,  and  air,  and  ssa, 
All  waken-,  save  the  tomb's  pale  tenantij.. 

As  one  emerging  from  the  dungeon's  gloom — 
Long  pent,  and  i^ining  for  the  cheerful  day, 
That  thro'  the  bars  above  sends  dov/n  one  ray, 
To  show  tho  darkness  of  that  living  tomb — 
Feek  the  fresh  air  djliclous  round  him  breathe  ; 
Thus  o'er  my  heart,  declined  in  duet  beneath, 
Those  visionary  joys,  reviving,  steal. 
Breathing  a  balm  that  wcunded  heart  to  heal. 
My  Daughter  I  o'er  thy  coach  of  dewy  rosit 
Bending — in  lineaments  of  infant  grace, 
I  mark  the  features  of  a  well  known  face — 
Jlvcn  of  her  who  lives  among  the  bleat. 


\ 


.*- 


1 


L_ 


-  Li- -  —  -.-grss^agg-n 


OCCASIONAL   PIECES. 


207 


Woiiltl  that,  on  earth,  her  eye  that  form  might  see.! 
But  liiisli— iny  Soul !  such  thouglits  befit  not  thae. 

m. 

Child  of  my  heart !  how  holy  is  thy  claim 

To  the  warm  feelings  fresh  from  nature's  spring  ! 
God  shelter  thee — poor,  smiling,  helpless  thing 
Without  a  moiher!  star  of  pure-it  (lame — 
AfFectiou's  light,  oh  !  let  my  bosom  share. 
While  lio])cs,  in  verdant  beauty,  round  me  cling — 
As  ivy  to  the  tompest-shattered  wall, 
That  firm  in  its  eaibraco  forbears  to  full — 

Love  breathes  for  thee  its  tender,  silent  prayer. 
Upheld  by  hope,  above  the  storm  of  fate, 
To  mo,  oh .'  be  it  given  to  elevate 

My  soul  aloft ;  and  shade  to  thee  extend — 
Nurtured  by  dews  of  heav'n—which  oft  descend 
Richest  on  those  wlio  find  no  earthly  friend. 

WINTER. 


I. 
CiLA  SEE  co-Ties  o'or  all.     Each  fiow'r  of  beauty,  dyri^, 

Withers  upon  Earth's  bosom,  whence  it  springs  ; 
Birds— summer  friends— to  genial  climes  are  hieing.: 

And  the  far  munnur'of  their  rushing  wings 
Sounds  like  an  echo,  to  the  heart  replying. 

When  Sorrow  mournfully  hath  touched  its  strings  .; 
And  over  graves,  wherein  the  loved  are  lying, 

Whispers  to  Mom'ry  of  departed  things. 


T  ■ ,» . 


-<***^-; 
/:*. 


m 


* 


■nr 


'i"P"'uWi 


! 


208 


OCCASIONAL   riECES. 


'Tis  Winter's  roign.    The  har.ly  \vool,n:in  plying 
His  pon'l'rn;is  axo— aloud  the  w'lkin  riiiirs; 

Bounds  llic  free  sttijj,  from  uiin  of  hunter  living, 
And  rapidly  behind  the  forest  lliiigs  : 

Tiio  wolf  stares  wildly,  from  his  cavern  lone, 

And  wonders  wiicro  tli'  ombow'ring  shades  liave  gone. 

II. 
Change  coaios  o'er  all.     E  irth's  transient  tints  have  fljoted, 

Like  fairy  frames  upon  life's  in(5r;i;ng  stream  ; 
(icno  is  the  glow,  wherewith  kind  samm'^r  greeted 

Tlie  soul  that,  basking,  gladdenoJ  in  its  gleam  : 
Stern,  o'er  the  wreck,  terrific  Nature  seated, 

Scowls  at  t!ie  Sun,  that  dares  oblrudo  his  beam  ; 
Th'  cncliantcr  frost  the  river's  marge  hath  meted, 

Lulling  the  waters  in  his  icy  dream. ^ 
Scared  by  dread  Winter's  frown,  the  Sun,  retreated, 

Adown  the  southern  slope  directs  his  team  ; 
Dark  mourns  the  forest,  of  its  verdure  cheated  ; 

Naked,  and  desolate,  its  borders  seem  : 
Save  where  the  pines — each  as  a  fun'ral  plume — 
Nod  black  o'er  Earth,  shrouded  as  for  the  tomb. 

in. 
Yet  weep  not.  Nature  !  tho'  the  grave,  inurning, 

Gives  to  decay  the  children  of  thy  breast : 
Hastens  the  Iiour,  when  summer  sun,  returning, 

Again  shall  visit  thee — a  welcome  guest. 
Oh !  beautiful — when  golden  skies  are  burning — 

Shall  be  thy  form,  in  em'rald  glory  dressed  ; 
And  exquisite  tho  blooms,  for  which  thou'rt  yearning,     • 


.*«»■ 


*. 


OCCASIONAL   riECES, 


209 


fljoted, 


I 


Once  more  shall  wAon  from  their  wintry  rest. 
iX-ep  in  the  ground,  beyond  our  cyea'  discernini,', 

Sleep  the  young  rrcmu-i — each  in  its  earthy  nest ; 
And  hence  ini>>ht  huur.m  hojies,  a  lesson  learning, 

Revel,  in  pro3j)octof  a  future  blessed. 
Then  mourn  not,  3Ian,  oilspring  of  Love  Divine  ! 
A  deathless  lot — Eternity,  is  thine, 

THE  CONTRAST, 


I  GAZF.D  on  Eurlh — !ior  i)e;iuteous  form  lay  white, 

Wrapped  in  its  shroud — the  cliill  snow  frozen  deep; 
Curb  of  the  grave  was  on  her — firn'ral  Aiyht 

Fanned,  witli  black  plume,  her  bed  of  breathless  sleep 
I  heard  the  savage  howl  of  winter  sweep, 
With  roar  of  storms,  and  fall  of  forest-tree, 
And  crash  of  boughs,  and  wild  roots — wreathed  free 
Round  the  firm  rocks — uptorn  and  heav'nward  cast, 
A'-'  raged  the  teuipest  in  its  fury  past; 

And  Earth  lay  dead  ;  like  those  o'er  whom  we  weep. 
When  the  rent  heart  clings  close  to  life-like  clay, 
Whose  strange  still  look  bids  Hope  floe  far  away  : 
And  Earth  lay  dead.      Oh  !  say,  is  it  not  death, 
When  beauty,  love,  and  joy,  yield  up  expiring  breath  ? 


I  gazed  on  Earth — her  snowy  shroud  was  gone, 
A  green  garb  flowed  around  her  lovely  form.; 

Darkness  had  fled,  her  eye  in  lustre  shone ; 

Nor  winter's  howl  was  heard,  nor  rush  of  storm. 
Nor  fall  of  forest-tree  :  but  sunlisht  warm 


rr 


N-rn 


210 


OCCASIUXAL   riECES. 


Bathed  in  itshoaiitooiis  rflow  tlio  buddiiifif  grovo, 

Wliosc  voiiuix  fresh  shoots  busked  iti  the  beams  above  : 

And  all  was  j,'l;ul — itnd  fair  and  happy  things 

Hovered  on  hijjh.  with  radiant,  (I'Mvd  winj;;s, 

Dyed  in  llic  rainlx)W  ;  hiin":  the  bees'  donso  swarm 

Its  Iivin<f  cloud  aloft;  the  butterfly 

Revelled  in  sweets,  as  ilio*  it  ne'er  coidd  die: 
Earth  lived  aj;  lin.     Christian  I  beyond  the  tomb, 
Thus,  from   death'ti   wintry  sle;.')),  slialt   thou  awake  and 
bloom. 

THE  STARS. 


I. 
The  Stars  come  forth — Uie  r.'s,'k'nden;  Stars, 
Brirjht  fjildin:;  the  "loom  of  E  irth's  dunwon-bars  ; 
In  glory  along  the  cmjiyreal  height, 
Each  like  a  sun,  in  the  world  of  night, 
With  calm  eye  watching  the  course  of  Time — 
The  chroniclers  old  of  years  s'.b'.iino. 

II. 
'Earth's  tribes,  successive,  depart  to  the  tomb  : 
Yet  changeless  ye  shine,  briglit  Stars  !  but  for  whom  2 
The  glory  of  ^lan  soon  fleets  away  ; 
His  pride,  and  his  beauty — where  are  they  ? 
Shine  ye,  O  Stars !  like  the  torches'  blaze. 
That  lights  the  dead  with  its  fun'ral  rays  V 


■m 


t 


OCCASIONAL   PIECES, 


211 


\e  : 


rm 


awake  and 


4 


■0% 


icm  ? 


m. 

'^forfal !  our  course  was  of  old  on  Iii;.'h, 

And  we  gaze  on  Eurili  with  an  uucliangcd  eye; 

And  fast,  and  llect,  as  we  roll  above — 

That  course  is  tiuit-d,  and  measured,  by  Lovo. 

Yet  we,  eVn  wo,  must  fromileav'n  dej>nrt: 

But  (hou — what  a  doatlilci    tiling  thou  art  1' 

TLARS  FOR  THE  DEAD. 


I. 
Tears  for  tlio  dead  !     Eacli  witherinnr  fiow'r, 

])roops  low,  in  decline,  its  beauteous  liead  ; 
The  willow-branch  weepcth  a  goldeji  sliow'r; 

And  the  stars  fuint  glisten,  tlno'  tears  for  tlie  dead. 

n. 
The  tempest  hath  rifled  the  forest-tree  ; 

Lie  ghastly  its  leaves  on  iheir  fun'ral  bed : 
And  mourns  o"er  the  wreck  ])(iortalily; 

And  the  dim  dew  falleth,  as  tears  for  the  dead. 

in. 
I  saw,  in  her  beauty,  a  fair  young  bride, 

Where  its  gloom  o'er  the  grave  the  darlc  yew  shed  ; 
I  asked,  what  sorrow  had  paled  the  pride 

Of  her  cheek :  'twas  answered— 'tears  for  tlie  dead!' 

IV. 

And  there,  mid  the  tombs,  lo  !  a  lovely  child 
Bent,  wliere  the  cypress  waved  black  o'erliead  : 


1 


,i  ; 


^     1 

I  I 


212 


OCCASIONAL    PIECES. 


I  sought  wliy  it  watched  in  tliat  tlosort  wild  ; 
And  Eclio  whispered — 'tears  for  the  dead  ! ' 


V. 


There  an  fi<::ed  man  on  tlio  eartli  Iny  prone  ; 

And  liie  silvery  snows  were  ar-r-ind  him  spread  : 
I  questioned  why  tarried  he  tl.ero  alone  ; 

And  the  niiiht-wind  niurniiuvd — 'tears  for  tlic  dead  ',' 

VI. 

Alas,  for  tliose  tears  !  their  hitler  Row 

]\rust  oft  hy  mortal  eye  he  slied  : 

Till  the  spirit,  on  high,  forgets  all  woe— 
\o  more,  for  ever,  weeps  tears  for  the  dead. 

:musings  at  midnight. 


She  left  my  hed  for  the  cold  dismal  grave — 
The  place  of  sculls,  of  darkness,  and  the  worm  ! 
The  long,  long  niplit — ahovc  whose  sidlen  sleep, 
Eean^.s  not  a  ray  of  cheerful  lustre  hright ; 
No  moon,  no  star:  hlackness,  and  fun'rulsliade, 
Close  curiaining  the  slumhcr  of  the  shroud  ! 

ITark  !  with  rcdouhled  roar,  ahove  the  deep, 
,  Tlio  thunder  hooms — and  'mong  tlic  lurid  clouds 
Flames  the  red  holt ;  the  sleety,  patt'ring  show'r, 
Bounds  on  the  roof:  while  hollow,  howling  gusts, 
Sweep  from  the  sea;  find,  as  they  hasten  by, 
Unearthly  forms  seem  riding  on  the  blast. 
Alol\  the  scared  owl  shrieks.     It  is  a  nij-ht, 
Wherein  the  dead  might  wake — tlie  living  die, 


'  i' 


'i^': 


A 


H 


i 


# 


OCCASIONAL   riECES. 


213 


Best  and  beloved  One !  wilt  ihoic  ne'er  awake  ? 
Why  dost  tliou  sloop — when  tempost,  and  the  blast 
Of  thunder,  startle  thus  the  midnight  hour? 
Why  dost  thou  sleep — as  tho'  the  hideous  roar 
Of  the  conllicting  elements,  around, 
But  rocked  thy  slumber  ?     All  the  livelong  day, 
These  eyes  have  wejit ;  and  Sorrow  with  my  heart 
Warred  madly — as  tlio  Ocean  with  the  rock, 
That  sternly  stands,  by  winds  and  waters  worn  : 
Yet  still  my  spirit  wakes.    O  death !  death  !  death ! 
How  dread  thy  visitation  ;  when  thou  com'st, 
All  unforesocn,  to  rend  the  loved  away- 
Gaunt  spoiler— with  tliy  hoilow,  lieartless  smile, 
With'ring  our  bliss ! 

Rave  on,  thou  sullen  storm! 
Thou  thunder  !  with  tliy  moui;tain-shakinfr  raiiTht, 
Roll  on,rcdoubling  thy  terrific  roar. 
Ye  winds !  ye  waves  !  that  upon  ocean  vast. 
With  congregated  voices,  sliout  on  liigh 
Your  awful  diapason,  rage  and  howl. 
Night-wand'ring  \;olves !  at  whose  infuriate  yell. 
The  latcd  trav'lcr  feels  his  blood  run  cold 
Swell  with  your  cry  the  universal  din. 
She  will  not  wake !  the  elements  have  nought — 
Nor  Nature,  in  lier  agonizing  war — 
Of  pow'r,  of  terror,  to  awake  the  dead. 

Yet  wherefore  thus — oh !  wherefore  thus,  my  soul ! 
Dost  thou  still  dwell  upon  the  sleep  of  death .^ 
If  that  the  spirit,  when  this  life  is  o'er, 
Still  slumbers  on — as  doth  the  senseless  clay — 

19 


,»'*-»^        U^'f"*!  ^'      ■ 


u 


'W 


,  1) 


f,^ 


I. 


;?  w 


1{ 


r 


214  OCCASIONAL   rtECES. 

A  visioiilciis,  and  an  eternal  sleep  ; 

'Tis  wise,  'tis  well,  to  sorrow  for  the  dead. 

But  if  a  morning,  brighter  than  was  seen 

E'er  n\)on  earlh,  awaits  the  ransomed  soul, 

Freed  from  its  clog ;  oh  !  wherefore  should  wc  rr.ourn 

For  the  departed  ?  wherefore  should  wc  bend, 

In  uniiA'ailing  woo.  ulx>ve  the  bier — 

Clasp  tlie  insensate  clay — and  deem  the  dead 

Lost,  and  for  over  ?     'Tis  no  I):isi.>le.s.s  creed— 

But  firm  as  pillars  of  eternal  tnilh — 

The  Soul  ascends  to  Cou  from  whence  it  came ; 

IVFan's  mortal  part  alone  lies  in  the  tomb : 

His  nobler  essence  lives  for  evermore. 

ft 

Ileav'n  I  lead  us  by  Thy  li'rht :  nor  let  us  stray 
From  the  pure  path,  that  leads  to  endless  day. 

SORROWS    VISIOK 


Oh  !  is  there  no  land,  where  the  lest,  and  the  fairest, 
Of  Earth's  fading  flower;',  shall  blossom  anew  ; 

Where,  desolate  mourner !  th'  aflliction  thou  bcarest 
Shall  vanish  away,  like  the  morning's  liglit  dew  ? 

n. 
Oh !  is  there  no  land,  wliere  the  tears  sadly  streaming, 

From  Sorrow's  dark  fountain,  in  Hoods  that  ne'er  ceaee- 
Exhaled  to  the  region  where  Love's  light  is  beaming — 

Shall  halo  the  heart  with  the  rainbow  of  f  eace  ? 


i 


m 


M 


OCCASIONAL   PIECES. 


215 


ij^ 


III. 

Thou  spirit  of  Sorrow!  long  days  without  nnnbor, 
I've  droopod,  and  declinrd,  beneath  thy  «ad  control; 

And  dreams  of  the  dead  still  arose  in  the  slumber, 
That  dimly  o'ershadowed  the  eye  of  the  .soul. 

IV. 

1  dreamed  of  the  dead,  in  their  beauty  and  briglitness  ; 

Fresh  and  fragrant,  aroinid,  rose  the  scenes  of  my  youth  : 
The  green  (ields,  all  studded  with  flow'r-stars  of  wliitoness, 

Tho  garden,  unscathed  by  cold  Winter's  stern  ruth. 

V. 

AH  fresh  sprang  the  sweet  ilow'rs,  in  that  sunny  garden  ; 

VViiere,  brothers  and  sisters,  we  walked  side  by  side  : 
<-)li !    tlie  soul  may  grow  dark,  and  the  cold    heart  may 
harden ; 

Vet  still  bo  tliose  far  days  fond  Memory's  pride. 

VI. 

The  dead  stood  around  me  :  'thou  desolate  mourner !' 
They  said— or,  in  fancy's  dream,  thus  seemed  to  say— 

'How lonely  thou'rt  left !  what  lot  can  be  forlorner  ? 
Haste—haste  from  tho  land  of  affliction  away  1 

'There  are  fields   of  delight,  in  the  world  where  we're 
dwelling ; 

And  rivers  of  pleasure,  all  stainless  and  pure  : 
And  friends  have  we  there,  e'en  Eirtli's  dairost  excalling  ; 

And  a  kind  Father's  love,  that  for  aye  shall  endure. 


TTT 


^p?" 


■ipq;iinnni w|i>  I  ■! J  ^wmmw^Kmfm  tmwfmmw>wv>i 


21G 


OCCASIONAL   PIECES. 


!!m 


vni. 
'Thou  bleeding,  borcav.-d  one  !  oli !  come — and  we'll  gather 
Heav'n's   chapletSj  to  crown  thee   with  wreaths  of  the 
b'f^sscd : 
Oh  !  hasten,  md  steep  tlice  in  smiles  of  thy  Father ; 
He'll  welcome  tliee — give  thee  repose  on  his  breast.' 

IX, 

'Twas  pn.st.  O'er  the  siirnfos  of  broad  ocean  ferried, 
fn  the  stranger's  fur  land  T  liad  found  me  a  home  j 

I  stood  o'er  the  grave,  where  my  lost  love  lay  buried  : 
O'er  the  wide-rolling  waters,  for  this  did  I  roam. 

X. 

I  stood  f^'er  that  grave — Sorrow's  loud  burst  was  pouring; 

And  bitterly  breathed  my  sore  spirit  the  sigh  : 
When — hush  !  on  the  light  v/ind,  glad  music  was  soaring. 

Like  seraph's  sweet  strains,  as  they  warble  on  high. 

XI. 

'Twas  the  voice  of  my  love — and  it  sang  in  its  mildness, 
A  hymn  often  sung  in  the  days  of  her  prime : 

And,  o'er  my  lulled  spirit,  that  strain,  in  its  wildness, 
Came  beauteous,  and  soft,  as  the  anthem's  far  chime. 

XII. 

"Rejoice  !"  was  her  song.    Like  Spring's  early  appearing, 
When  she  smiles  o'er  the  cold  clouds  of  winter  afar — 

Thrilled  those  accents  around  me,  my  rent  bosom  cheering : 
Hope  again,  o'er  the  troubled  waves,  lifts  her  bright  star. 


OrCASIOVAL   PIECES. 


217 


we'll 

gather 

:'aths 

of  the 

st; 

rcast. 

» 

rried, 

lie  J 

ried  : 

m. 

THE  CHRISTIAN'S  SOLILOQUY. 


pouring-; 

I  soaring, 
high. 

Idness, 

(SS, 

;hiine. 


ppearmg, 

afar — 

cheering : 
ght  star. 


I. 

My  frame  is  worn  with  toil  and  grief; 

This  heart  throbs  faint  and  slow : 
My  time  upon  this  earth  Is  brief; 

I  soon  must  sink  below. 

n. 
Dark — dark,  within  its  silent  cave — 

This  body  frail  must  lie  ', 
Cold — cold,  within  the  cheerless  grave — 

Shut  up  from  human  eye. 

m. 
Like  ship,  long  tossed  o'er  ocean's  foam, 

Shattered  by  tempest's  breath — 
I'm  near  my  haven,  and  my  home : 

That  home,  that  haven— death. 

IV, 

Whattho'  this  form  its  home  there  find? 

Dwells  there  no  soul  within — 
The'Sun-crowncd  monarch  of  the  mind, 

TJiat  claims  with  aofjels  kin  ?_,1 

V. 

Beams  there  no  light  of  heav'nly  birth, 
Thro'  these  dark  prison-bars; 

That  shall  outlive  the  firm-built  Earth, 
Yon  skies,  with  all  their  stars  ? 

19* 


'     - ! 


S18 


OCCASIONAL   PIECES. 


XT. 

Not  as  oiuluisiasls  teach,  or  learn , 

Or  poets  tbndly  dream — 
I  feel  that  soul  within  me  burn, 

That  light  wiihai  me  beam. 

V!I. 

And  lirm,  as  stand  tli'  etcnial  hills, 

Or  j)i liars  of  the  sky — 
My  failli  is  lixed  ;  that  pow'r  which  thrilU 

Within,  shall  soar  on  high; 

vni. 

(When  sinks  to  dust  this  senseless  frame.) 
Siiall  soar  to  realms  above  ; 

To  Ilim,  who  kindled  first  hs  flame- 
Its  end,  and  essence — Love. 

IX, 

Upborne  on  wings  of  Hope,  and  Faith, 

Its  home  of  bliss  I  sec  : 
Hasten  tliino  arrow,  tardy  Death  ! 

Now — now,  I  woiild  be  free. 

THE  HOME    OF  REST. 


I 


Trav'leu  toiling  o'er  the  wild, 

Where  wolves  prowl  and  serpents  hiss ! 
From  thy  Father's  home  exiled, 

Woiild'bt  thou  live  on  land  like  this  ? 


M4i 


OCCASIONAL  PIECES. 


2)9 


lis 


leO 


Woultlst  thou  fix  thv  dwcllinjr  here, 
In  a  land  so  strange,  and  drear  ? 

11. 

Is  thy  liomc  upon  llie  sea, 
Wand'ror  over  ocean's  breast  ? 

Yield  the  waves  repose  to  thee 
Can  the  rude  storm  rock  to  rest  ? 

WoiilJst  thou  build  thy  changeless  home 

On  the  tossing  billow's  foam? 

III. 
Soldier !  'mid  the  din  of  arms 

Can  thy  spirit  calmly  sleep  ? 
During  battle's  stern  alarms, 

Wouldst  thou  sink  in  slumber  deep? 
Can  sweet  sliunborseal  thin?  eyes, 
While  war's  thunders  rend  the  skies  ? 

IV. 

Trav'ior — voyager,  art  thou 
Soldier,  too — my  weary  heart  ! 

Dar'st  thou  still  sucii  hopes  avow  ? 
Still  dest  act  such  foolish  part? 

Methiuks — toil,  storms,  and  warfare  here, 

Siiould  make  tiiy  Fatlier's  Home  more  dear. 


~7fl 

-1 

i 

1 

M 

980                                             OCCASIONAL  riECES.                                                           ' 

■ 

1 
1 

1 

i 

11 

PARAPHRASE  OF  PSALM  XLII. 

I. 
E'en  as  the  hunted  liart  desires 

The  water-brook,  with  panting  breath; 
Tims  after  God  my  soul  aspires, 

Weary  with  wand'ring  in  this  vale  of  death. 

n. 
From  patlis  of  sin,  which  late  I  trod, 
1  view  my  Fatlier's  home  above : 

j 

i 
1 

Thirsting  for  God — tlie  living  God — 
My  contrite  spirit  breathes  its  burning  love. 

III. 
Oh !  why  art  thou  cast  down,  my  Soul  ?         * 

What  weak  disquietude  is  thine  ? 
Hope  thou  in  God  ;  thy  fears  control : 

1 
1 

1 

i 

1 

! 
1 

1 

His  countenance  shall  yet  upon  thee  shine. 

rv, 
O  God  !  my  heart  is  sinking  low 

In  trouble's  overwhelming  wave  : 
Deep  unto  deep,  while  floods  o'erflow. 

Thunders  with  voice  like  echo  from  the  grave. 

V. 

The  billows  foam  above  my  head  ; 

The  weeds  are  tangled  round  my  breast : 
Dark  laid  on  Ocean's  oozy  bed. 

:       i 
1       1 

Death  draws  his  dismal  shade  o'er  my  unrest. 

i 

1 
i 

t; 

i. 

n 


OCCASIONAL  PIECES. 


VI. 


221 


Vet  will  the  Lord  commind  Ilis  love, 

To  help  mc  in  affliction's  day  : 
Nor  dreary  will  my  moments  prove  ;     • 

While  unto  Thee,  God  of  my  life  !  I  j>ray. 


VII, 


Then  be  no  more  cast  down,  my  Soul ! 

Nor  let  disriuiotiulo  oppress  : 
Tho'  stormy  waters  round  thee  roll ; 

He  will  relieve,  and  pity  thy  distress. 


VIII. 


Come  life,  come  d:'atli,  come  Xatiue's  doom  ; 

Crumble  thy  pillars,  Earth  !  in  dust : 
Ye  saints,  triumphant  o'er  the  tomb, 

In  Him,  th'  unfailing  R,ock,  repose  your  trust. 

FEAR, 


Fear  !  Fear !  in  Man  liad  suoli  passion  place, 
When  from  his  Maker's  hand  he  came  ? 

Whence  rose  this  blot  of  deep  disgrace, 
And  stamped  the  Soul  with  dread,  and  shame  ? 


II. 


How  came  it,  ]\Ian,  of  form  upriglit — 
Who  nobly  bears  his  brow  on  high — 

E  er  stooped  to  fear;  and  shunned  the  litrht 
Of  God  his  Lord's  benignant  eye  ? 


li  I!! 


ill 


i  II 


Ml 


223 


OCCASIONAL   riECES. 


iir. 


Sill — Sin  liatli  done  tlio  Soul  this  wrong  ; 

And  made  'Sh\u  coward,  base,  and  low  : 
Clouded  liis  sjiirit  with  a  throng 

Of  ghastly  fuars,and  shaui!?,  and  woe. 

IV. 

Oh  I  let  us  cast  all  fears  away  ; 

Save  that  one  godly,  filial  I't-ar; 
Which  from  our  Father  droads  to  slra\''^ 

And  trembles  still,  when  sin  is  near. 

PARAPHRASE  OF  THE  LORD'S  PRAYER. 


Father,  who  dwell'st  above  in  Ileav'n, 

For  ever  one — the  same  ! 
To  Thee  be  endless  )iraises  giv'n ; 

All  hallowed  be  thy  X;tiiu'  : 
Thy  kingdom  come — the  reign  of  peace, 

When  Satan's  ]iow'r  s'.iall  fall; 
Eternal  Sabbath  of  release. 

When  Thou'lt  bo  all  in  all. 

ir. 
Thy  will  be  done,  thro'  Earth's  broad  bound, 

As  angels  do  above  ; 
And  not  one  rebel  heart  be  found  : 

But  all  be  filled  with  love. 
GiTe  usthis  day  our  daily  bread  ; 

Our  every  want  supply  : 


« 


OCCASIONAL   riECES. 


223 


:ayer. 


'Tis  bv  Tliv  Imiul  the  flocks  aro  fud  ; 
Tlioii  stiir.st  tlic  riivou's  cry. 

III. 
As  we  forjjivo  all  human  uronnf, 

Do  Thou  our  sins  fornivo  ; 
To  Thco,  compassion  doth  bulong — 

J.iko  Thee  then  Jot  iis  live  : 
Oil !  let  us  not  1)0  tempted,  Lord, 

'Bovo  wliat  our  strength  can  bear; 
h-omo  op'ning  for  escape  afford — 

Tliy  grace  still  let  us  siiare. 

IV. 

Deliver  us  from  evil  still — 

When  Satan's  wrath  doth  lour  ; 
Sliclter  our  souls  from  all  of  ill, 

And  savo  in  trials  hour : 
For  Thine's  the  kingdom,  glory,  pow'r, 

(.)'cr  worlds,  o'er  angels,  men : 
Be  thou  our  refuge,  strength,  and  tow'r, 

Eternally — Amen  ! 


PARAPHRASE  OF  PSALM  XXIII. 


d, 


The  Lord  is  my  Sheplierd— no  good  can  I  need ; 
In  green  sunny  pastures  lie  makes  me  to  feed : 
And  by  the  still  stream,  that  no  storms  e'er  molest, 
With  His  great  eye  to  watch  me,  how  calmly  I  rest 


WjW 


224 


OCCASIONAL     riECEH. 


n. 

When  sorrow'a  chill  waves  o'or  my  spirit  roll  deep ; 
He brin;;s  to  His  losoin,  unJ  smiles  her  to  sleep : 
And  from  paths  w  here  .she  wandered,  til!  simple  and  wild, 
ToHi«  home,  niid  Hi;i  heart.  He  leads  hack  His  loor  child, 

III. 
Tho'  I  walk  thro'  death's  dark-shadowed  valley  obscure  ; 
j\[y  Soul  fears  no  evil — her  safety  is  sure  : 
Thou  there  wilt  be  with  me,  my  Father  !  my  Friend  ! 
With  Thy  stafl",  rod,  and  comfort,  ^  ''heer  to  the  end. 

IV. 

In  sight  of  the  scorncr,  my  table  is  spread ', 
With  balm  of  rich  oil.  Thou  anointest  my  head  : 
Thou  blesacat  my  garner,  my  basket,  and  store  ; 
Thy  bountiful  hand  makes  my  full  cup  run  o'er. 

Y. 

Surely  goodness,  and  mercy,  shall  crown  all  my  days ; 
In  the  house  of  the  liord  shall  I  aU\1  sing  His  praise : 
My  spirit  set  free — like  the  dove  o'er  the  foam 
(Of  the  wide-rolling  deluge — flies  there  to  its  home, 


!lli 


cp; 

and  wild, 
foor  cliild, 

obscure ; 

riond  ! 
c  end. 


» 


^   » 


days ; 
alse: 


NOTES  ON  THE 

OCCASIONAL  PIECES. 

Pa<Te  19G.    The  Farewell. 

Note— The  severe  affliction,  and  deep  sorrow,  which  arc  the 
subjects— and  were  tlio  occasion  of  the  composin;,',  of  so  many  of 
ihosG  I'ooms— were,  in  no  respect,  creatures  of  imagination  :  but 
wore  real,  and  nnntVccted,  The  Grave  is  that  of  his  lamented 
wife.  Kut  t!ie  INIeinoir,  it^ulf,  prefixed  to  these  works,  is  too  brief 
to  allow  an  opportunity  of  doing  juiticc  to  our  Poet's  feelings. 

Pao-e  20G.  On  account  of  ihc  concluding  expressions  of  this 
address  to  his  Infant  Daughter;  a  biicf  note,  in  this  p.laco,  may  bo 
appropiriato. 

It  isalre.uly  hhown,  that  she  has  been  Loan  ifiilly  remembered 
by  the  evcr-wate'iful  Guardlau;  to  v.'jo.n  ho  poured  oat  hia  sup- 
plicat.ons  in  her  bclialf. 

Pago  205.     Stz.  III.  1.10. 

The  Poet,  after  glancing  at  the  various  dangers,  and  circum- 
stances of  life;  by  which  friends  arc  often  separated,  and  some- 
times estranged;  alludes  to  the  effects  of  fever,  as  in  bilious  at- 
tacks. The  occasion  of  such  allusion  seems  to  have  been — thai 
though  speaking  of  hirnsclf,  in  respect  both  to  such  trials  of  life 
and  to  temporary  cfTecls  of  disease,  which  are  coi'^mon  :  he  had 
nevertheless  in  view  (as  incidentally  shown  in  the  Memoir)  the 
more  severe  experience  of  others,  in  extreme  cases.  And  thus  in 
his  solitude  and  bereavement,  the  sadness  of  his  spirit  led  him— 
with  such  intense  feeling,  and  in  so  high  a  style  of  poetic  imagin- 
ation—to deprecate  the  occurrence  of  evils  barely  possible. 

20 


Ml 


'T^B^pW«W"l!^^«WNcNW^."^f'-^l'"^(^BPiP-4'"JI'l"'411WW»l^l»l!ll<»f 


'  1. 


..  IbsL^c^,- 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS, 


\. 


1         I    i 

T        ! 

r  ~  1 
f 

iii; 

hi 
mi 


Mi 


ii 

mi 


TO 

niS    DEARLY    BELOVED    SISTER, 

ELIZA, 

THE    FOLLOWING    P0EM3 

ARE, 

WITH    THE    FONDEST    FEELINGS 

OP 

AFFECTION,    AND    REGARD, 

INSCRIBED, 

BY 

THE  AUTHOR. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


'* 


THE  SOLITARY. 


I. 

I  SIT  a  lone,  a  solitary  man, 

Besido  my  hearth  ;  no  friendly  form  is  near, 

Or  relative,  to  fond  affection  dear : 
TliG  winter's  eve  contracts  its  narrow  span. 
Night  i'arkens  round .  the  snovi^s  are  falling  fast ; 

V  \>if-iike  the  wind  is  howling  at  my  door; 

7>    yi..ntsof  the  forest  loudly  roar, 
A.i(i  ,<■  L'ixO  sickens  at  the  sound  aghast. 
Winter,  ^n-  ^oUtude,  and  night,  combined, 

The  spell  of  solemn  thought  have  o'er  me  thrown ; 
And,  in  the  shad'wy  stillness  of  the  mind, 

Vibrates  this  heart  a  not  unearthly  tone. 
Tis  v:ell.    O  heav'nly  Father !  let  me  be 
^  \r  from  the  wild'rinji  world,  but  close  to  Thee, 


a. 

Tuf.  is  no  solitude— Behold  !  the  loved 

Come  thronging  round  me,  with  their  starry  eye« ; 

Smile  on  this  stricken  heart,  in  gentle  guise. 
The  dead,  the  distant,  by  stern  fate  removed. 

BO* 


m^M 


n 


230 


MIDNIGHT. 


(  i 

r   i 
i  ; 


t      I 


I  ! 


i  '  i; 


Ilii 


Death  hath  no  pow'r,  or  place  to  rob  the  mind — 
Stronjj  in  its  slrcn^rth,  communion  to  retain 
With  tliose  whose  earthly  forms  were  sought  in  vain — 

Of  treasures  in  l  >st  depth  enshrined. 

This  is  no  solitude  .     ;r  God  is  here, 
As  in  all  places  ;  and  will  ne'er  forsake 

His  follower,  devoted  to  His  fear. 
Watch  o'er  mo,  Hoav'n  !  whether  I  sleep,  or  wake  ; 

Tho'  Earth  he  darkness,  and  its  joys  be  dead  ; 

Sun  of  the  universe !  Thy  beams  of  glory  round  me  shed. 

MIDNIGHT. 

At  the  deep  midnigl.t-hour,  when  not  a  breath 

Is  heard  around,  and  we  are  all  alone  ; 
When  Nature's  realms  are  silent,  as  tho'  death 

Had  made  the  universal  world  his  own ; 

When  dunnest  darkness  over  earth  is  strewn, 
And  stillest  slumbers  o'er  the  spirit  steal : 

'Tis  awful,  at  that  hour,  before  the  throne 
Of  the  Eternal,  Infinite,  to  kneel — 

To  wake,  and  commune  with  our  God  alone, 
Whose  watchful  eye  no  slumbers  ever  seal ; 
To  feel  the  joy  that  contrite  mourners  feel, 

When  love  is  burning,  and  their  fears  have  flown — 
To  feel  the  spirit  stirring  to  be  free, 
As  spreads  the  eagle  its  broad  wings  to  flee. 


THUNDER  AT   MIDNIGHT. 


231 


t  in  vain — 


THUNDER  AT  MIDNIGHT. 


wake  : 
id  me  slied. 


wn — 


Hakk  !  'tis  the  thunder's  fearful  tone, 
Like  voices  from  tlie  world  unknown  ; 
Lond-cras}jii;g  over  land,  and  sea — 
The  eclio  of  Eternity ! 

II. 
List !  'tis  the  thunder's  deafning  roll, 
Tjjat,  awful,  shal:es  the  troubled  soul  : 
At  midnijrht,  from  the  couch  of  sleep, 
Man  starting,  quakes  v.ith  terror  deep. 

III. 
Fierce  lustre  round  the  lightnings  cast ; 
The  monarch  mountain  stands  aghast : 
Around  him,  while  his  strong  heart  quivers, 
The  torrent  rain  descends  in  rivers. 

IV. 

Tiie  forest— like  a  field  in  spring, 
Swept  hy  the  storm  on  fury's  wino-— 
Upon  the  blast,  its  strength  that  shatters, 
The  glory  of  its  beauty  .scatters. 

V. 

Contending  with  the  gale,  each  tree 
Slern  battles  for  the  mastery  : 
Loud  roars,  in  fury,  at  the  blast ; 
Then  falls  o'erpowered,  a  giant  vast. 


»      .'"J    l!f^!i 


it:    f  i    ■    . 


232 


THE   SLEEP  OF   DEATH. 


VI. 


i;iM»W 


Why  trcniblest  thou,  with  panting  breath, 
Weak  man,  the  dcstinod  prey  of  death  ? 
Hast  thou  no  friend,  beyond  t!io  sky, 
To  sliiold  thee,  when  his  rage  is  nigh  ? 


Ilast  thon  no  friend,  endued  with  pow'r 
To  save  thee  in  the  trying  lionr ; 
^Vhen  terror's  king,  thy  mortal  foe, 
Couches  his  lance  to  lay  thee  low  ? 

VII T. 

Yes!  thou  must  die.    Darn,  soon  or  late, 
Returns  to  dust — its  final  fate  : 
But  souls  for  Jesus'  sake  forgiven, 
May  smile  at  death  ;  secure  of  heaven. 


,-!» 


THE  SLEEP  OF  DEATH. 


Lrj:jG  sleep !  the  slr.inbor  of  the  son^iolcss  clay, 
Crumbling  toduKt ;  o.nd  scattered  on  the  bed. 

Where  it  must  lie  till  the  groat  Judgment-day. 
Long  sleej) !  when  the  corroJia.'^;'  worai  hath  spod 
Its  loathsome  work  ;  morning  and  ev'ning  shed 

Light— shade — upon  the  Earth,  a  thousand  years ; 
Still  slumb'ring  on,  with  kindred  dust  o'erspread. 

Death  !  o'er  thy  wilderness,  how  have  the  tears 

Of  centuries  still  rained !  yet  not  one  bud  appears. 


THE   STIXG    OF   DEATH. 


333 


II. 
Lo   >•  sleop !  I've  gazed  upon  the  aspect  wan, 

The  blood-dcsertcd  visage  of  tlie  dead : 
And  seemed  to  say  that  brow,  whose  light  was  gone, 
Those  lips,  whence  life's  expressiveness  had  fled, 
Those  hollow  cheeks— eyes  that  no  lustre  shed — 
'This  is  the  lot,  th'  inevitable  doom, 

Of  thee— of  all ;  of  sin  the  sentence  dread. 
Rolls  on  the  stream,  the  glory  and  the  bloom 
Of  life,  to  the  abyss— th'  dark,  th'  engulfing  tomb.' 

III. 
Sleep  in  the  dust !  Jnex'rable  decree, 

The  righteous  doom  of  sin  !  beneath  the  sun, 
None  can  evade  that  lot :  so  let  it  be  ! 

If  that  the  soul,  thro'  Him  who  heav'n  won 

For  guilty  man,  hath  nobler  life  be^un 
(When  freed  from  flesh,)  where  the  redeemed  shall  dwell; 

The  slumber  of  the  grave  why  should  we  shun  ? 
This  hath  no  dread  for  souls,  discerning  well 
Atoning  Love;  whose  pow'r  hath  vanquished  death  and 
hell. 


)od 
1 

J 
d. 


THE  STING  OF  DEATH. 


I. 


The  sting  of  death  is  Sin.    It  were  no  dread 
To  merely  die;  to  fling  the  fetters  base 

Of  earth  aside ;  and,  soaring  from  the  bed— 
Misnamed  of  death— beyond  the  stars  to  trace 


ll 


I 


mm 


234  THE   STING   or   DEATH. 

Our  lieav'nward  fliglit ;  even  to  Ilis  embrace, 
Who  formed  the  soul  a  pure,  and  sinless  thing. 

Oh  !  it  were  bliss — if  guilt  did  ne'er  deface 
The  spirit's  loveliness — aloft  to  \\\ng 
Our  homeward  way,  and  drink  of  life's  eternal  spring. 

II. 
Behold  yon  babe,  that  slumbers  on  the  b-east. 

Fresh  from  the  font  baptismal — pure  as  snow  ! 
How  doth  it  smile,  while  hover  o'er  its  rest 
Visions  of  paradise !  no  shade  of  woo 
Darkens  its  dreams,  unruffled  in  their  flow 
As  g-f^ntlest  waters.    Wherefore  doth  it  sleep 
'    Thus  calmly,  in  those  visions'  golden  glow  ; 
While  coward  Man  unto  his  couch  doth  creep, 
With  ghastly  fear;   and  quake,  with    bodings  dark    and 
deep? 

HI. 

O  base-eyed  guilt !  how  dost  thou  quail  and  shrink 

From  Heav'n's  all-piercing  glance  !  as  when  at  morn, 
Bursts  the  bright  sun  above  th'  horizon's  brink, 

Flee  the  night-birds  to  caves  and  dens  forlorn  ; 

Thus  shrinks  the  soul  of  primal  beauty  shorn-— 
Thus  darkly,  in  the  den  of  shame,  doth  hide 

Its  brow,  that  beams  of  truth  no  more  adorn. 
O  horror !  had  not  Ileav'n  a  balm  supplied, 
To  heal ;  'twere  well  had  Man  ne'er  lived,  or  never  died. 


fyt 


PESTILENCE. 


235 


PESTILENCE. 


ipnng. 


}  dark   and 


ik 

t  morn  I 


!r  died. 


Now,  ruthless,  rising  from  her  charncl-bcd, 
Contagion,  durk-winged  daughter  of  tlic  dead, 
Sweeps  as  a  storm  the  land,  with  baleful  breath  ; 
And  blasts  its  beauty  with  the  blight  of  death. 
Blazes  aloft  the  red,  funereal  star. 
Whose  eye  shoots  plagues  and  terror  from  afar ; 
And,  beaconing  her  course  above  the  waves, 
Lights,  with  its  torch,  unnumbered  to  their  graves. 

Within  the  city's  walls,  the  sword  she  plies  ; 
The  still  of  niglit  is  pierced  with  dismal  cries  : 
An  awful  voice  is  heard  ;  groans,  too,  arise, 
Till  Morning  trembles  in  the  sick'iiinfj  skies  ; 
And  slirinking  from  the  view  her  rays  reveal, 
Would  fain  in  ocean's  deptli  her  brow  conceal. 
Then  sights  are  seen :  the  dying  and  the  deavl!, 
Commingled  round,  a  ghastly  horror  shed. 
Forth  wend  the  buriers  to  their  fearful  trade, 
And  drop  into  the  graves  themselves  have  made. 
Howls  from  the  hill  bespeak  the  wolves  are  nigh  ; 
The  vultures  wheel  in  circling  clouds  on  high : 
Rush  from  their  forest-dens  the  rav'ning  lierd, 
And  not  by  man  alone  is  man  interred. 

Grim  stands, above  the  city's  fallen  pride, 
Pale  Death  ;  and  mocks  at  ruin  spreac'ing  wide  : 
Summons  from  swamj)y  fens  the  lurid  iiaze  ; 
And  blots  the  sun's  invigorating  rays. 
Dim  as  a  cloud,  the  solar  orb  on  high 
But  ssems  the  ghost  of  him  who  cheers  the  sky ; 


LJ  W  « V  * 


n^«l^mi 


»lll*t*" 


■^"  '^Ifll- 


236 


DEATir. 


And  when,  at  c'cn,  the  Moon  Ijcr  crescent  shows  ; 
Faded  her  aspect  seems,  and  wan  with  woes  : 
Blue,  Hvid  damps,  her  waninjj  I'onn  invest ; 
And  sad  slie  sinks  behind  the  mountain's  crest. 


DEATH. 


Death  is  a  solemn  fearful  tiling !  the  flight 

Of  the  freed  spirit  into  realms  nnlinown, 

Untried,  mysterious;  and,  it  may  be,  fraught 

With  siglits,  and  sounds,  to  which  the  things  of  Earth 

Have  no  resemblance.     Darkness,  and  the  cloud 

Ne'er  jjicrced  by  mortal  cyr,  o'erhting  that  world. 

And  tho'  in  visions,  oft,  man's  spii  it  views 

Strange  sights,  unlike  the  common  course  of  earth  ; 

And  wakes,  and  sleeps;  and  dreams  that  dream  again, 

That  seems,  in  trance  of  pow'r,  half  to  ujilift 

The  curtain  that  futurity  conceals  : 

Yet  this  is  but  the  coimigc  of  the  soul, 

L(Mig  pond'ring  wliat  that  awful  world  may  be, 

'Twill  one  day  view. 

Horror  of  mystery  ! 

Can  nought  disj>erse  th'  unfathomable  gloom, 

That  hovers  o'er  that  wondrous  world  unknown  ? 

Ktrange  thought!  to  leave  this  loved  associate  form, 

Wherein  the  soul  so  long  hath  gladly  dwelt ; 

And  rove  a  disembodied  spirit  forth — 

Eternal  life  beginning  at  the  hour. 

Even  when  earth  seems  all  annihilate  ! 

When  past  the  portals  of  eternity, 

How  feels  the  Soul  ?  what  are  its  functions,  pow'rs  ? 


THOUGHTS  ON  THH  PAST. 


237 


'  s 


i 


Wliat  shape  tloth  the  enfranchised  spirit  wear  ? 
Hath  it  new  senses  uniinnginable  ? 
Becomes  it,  when  released  from  earthly  clay, 
All  life,  perception,  intellect,  and  pow'r, 
All  eye,  all  ear,  all  energy,  all  thought, 
Feeling,  and  judgment,  intuition,  mind  ; 
-Mighty  for  bliss  or  woe — l'  enjoy  or  sntftjr, 
Kternity  of  happiness,  or  pain  ? 

Vain  quest !  how  idle  'tis — th'  attempt  t'  explore 
What  never  can,  this  side  the  grave,  bo  known  ! 
Let  it  suthce,  while  time  to  us  is  given — 
Probationarv  being  here  below — 
In  faith,  and  love,  to  act  the  Christian's  part ; 
And  wait  the  dawning  of  a  brighter  day — 
Beyond  the  precincts  of  the  gloomy  grave — 
Whose  glory  shall  illuminate  the  Soul, 
Ransomed,  redeemed,  by  Jesu's  priceless  blood : 
When  Death's  dark  mystery  sliall  be  unsealed, 
And  to  immortal  Man  his  endless  state  revealed. 


THOUGHTS  ON  THE  PAST. 


brm, 


I  SIT  alone,  and  think  of  other  days ; 
The  loved,  the  lost — the  distant,  and  the  dead. 
Still,  in  its  wand'ring  mood,  my  spirit  roves 
Mid  its  old  haunts — the  long-departed  scenes 
Of  childhood,  youth — the  blest,  beloved  home, 
Wherein  I  grew  beneath  a  mother's  smile  ; 
Gardens  of  beauty ;  meadows,  where  my  foot 

21 


■  iiMW|i  ivir      vip  iiPiikiM  I  aiii.i  uii| 


i38  THOUGHTS  OX  THE  PAST. 

JJniblied  from  cnaintllcd  flow'rji  tliO  morning  dew  ; 
Valleys  of  verdure,  garlanded  !>}'  groves 
Wavini'  their  blossoms  o'er  the  iimi)id  stream, 
'Jliat  warped  o'er  silv'ry  sands  its  winding  way  ; 
Tiie  gently-rising  hill,  on  whicli,  at  morn, 
1  stood,  and  watched  the  ever-jtiayfid  winJ 
ISv.'cep  wantonly  above  the  bending  grass  ; 
Wide-rolling  rivers ;  castles,  grey  and  old, 
O'er  whoso  dismantled  towr"s,  in  boyhood  oft 
Vent'roiis  I  climbed,  and  plucked  the  wild  wall-llow'r 
These  I  revisit.     As  the  miser  L'an, 
With  eager  eye,  still,  at  the  dead  of  night, 
While  others  sleep,  bends  o'er  his  gold  beloved  ; 
Thus  doth  my  Soul  revisit,  in  her  trance 
Of  melancholy  musmg,  former  scenes  : 
Still  haunts  my  heart  remembrance  of  the  past. 

O  holy  hours  of  innocence  and  joy, 
How  heav'nly,  and  how  beautiful  ye  were  I 
IIow  passing  lovely  !  as  o'er  yonder  cloud, 
That  hovers  in  the  west,  looks  forth  the  star — 
Night's  herald ;  o'er  the  dimness  of  my' soul, 
Long  tc  sscd  upon  the  troubled  waves  of  life. 
Brightens  the  beam,  the  glory  of  the  past  I 

u. 

Nature!  amid  thy  solitary  scenes 

Of  beauty,  and  of  love — the  budding  groves 

That  smile  in  spring ;  the  leafy  labyrinth, 

Casting  cool  shade  in  summer's  noon-tide  hour ; 

Beneath  the  glory  of  th'  rauumnal  sky ; 

By  the  calm  rill,  or  ocean's  breezy  shore— 


I,' 


f 


lew ; 

> 


l-How'r 


I 


TO    HIS   BROTHER. 

How  would  I  wandor,  were  all  pure  within 
As  onco  it  u;is,  einvrapt  in  drciinis  divine  .' 

Fricmls  of  my  clilldhood,  youth — beloved  ones  ! 
Whose  forin*^,  on  earth,  this  eye  no  more  may  view- 
How  hard  had  been  this  iicart,  did  it  not  weep ; 
Thinkinn;  of  other  days,  wlien  ye  wore  nigh, 
And  all  was  glad  !  liow  furtively  hath  TiuiO 
Pilfered  my  pleasures  :  gaunt,  and  grisly  Death, 
His  coadjutt>r,  fdehcd  my  _ioys  away  ! 
How  dreary,  desolate  a  lot,  were  ours ; 
irthat,  when  tliesc  all  earthly  ties  had  riv'n. 
Nought  did  remain  to  cheer  tho  mourn  r  on! 
How  desoial'\  to  look  n|)on  the  graves 
Of  the  departed  ;  and  while  moin'ry  told 
Of  vanished  bliss — ah  !  never  to  return- 
To  know  of  nought  beyond  the  darksome  tomb ; 
No  brighter  world,  wherein  the  loved  on  eartJi 
]May  meet  again  :  no  happy,  heav'nly  home. 
To  reunite  the  bands  unloosed  below  ! 

Thanks  to  the  Saviour's  blood,  it  is  not  so: 
Friends,  parted  here,  may  hope  to  meet  in  heav'n. 
Oh  !  let  us  so  live,  that,  when  transient  ties 
Are  severed,  we  may  meet  to  part  no  more. 


239 


SONNETS. 


r; 


I. 


Brother  !  tliy  focc  I  view  as  in  a  dream 
Between  us  rolls  the  separating  tide 
Of  Ocean,  in  his  stern,  imperial  pride, 


■T 


"! 


.  i 


i  I 


—  <i^<i(^wii4^iiiii,jp.  (fiijiviiBj  '.i!nm^y^i^'Vi\W!)f*W.":''rii">m 


I 


;i     !l" 


i! 


240  THE   LOVED   OF    THE   EARTH. 

And  she — tlic  loved — wliose  eye  was  as  tlie  beam 
Of  Paradise  ;  whose  smile  this  heart  could  bless  : 

Where  is  that  form  ?  lifeless,  v^'ithin  the  grave  ! 

Eternal  Father  !  Thou,  in  mercy,  save 
My  soul  from  sorrows  that  too  keenly  press  ; 
Fountahi  of  lif^hl !  oh  !  dissipate  the  gloom, 

That  hovers  o'er  me  with  its  fun'ral  shade  : 
Point  me  tlie  path  to  worlds  beyond  the  tomb. 

Wherein  the  loved  ne'er  die,  nor  pleasures  fade. 
Bright  bo  the  beams  of  Iloav'n  within  my  soul, 
Cildi'.ig  the  waves  of  lifi^  which  darkly  by  me  roll  I 

n. 

Loved  of^the  earth  !  how  deeply  in  tin's  heart, 
liivcs  the  remembrance  of  eacli  cherished  form  ! 
Years  may  elapse — darkness,  and  cloud,  and  storm, 
]\[ay  thicken  round  me — in  its  inmost  part, 
Pictured  in  colours  nought  can  e'er  elface, 
Still  lives  each  lineament ;  and  smiling  cheers 
The  desolation  wrought  by  grief,  and  years. 
As  dawn,  diffusing  round  its  golden  grace. 
Pleasant  those  mem'ries  cheer  afflictions  night : 

Like  morning  on  the  waters,  at  the  hour, 
When  Nature  drinks  the  balm  of  rosy  light ; 

And  the  world  freshens  in  tlie  sunny  show'r. 
Beloved  of  earth  !  tho'  we  no  more  should  meet, 
Till  the  great  day  —  the  pictured  past  is  sweet. 


li!',li!» 


I 


ASPIRATIONS.      TO  TIIE   WIND. 


241 


ASPIRATIONS. 


1 


Oh  !  woultl  I  had  the  dove's  bright,  golden  wings, 
To  waft  mo  from  this  world  of  sin,  and  care : 
Oh !  that  to  yonder  heav'n  I  coidd  repair, 

E'en  as  the  eagle  to  day's  fciintain  sp'-'ngs ! 

From  passion's  strife,  the  dark  imaginings 
Of  unbelief:  and  earth's  nnseemly  woe, 
Still  grovelling  in  dust  of  graves  below  ; 

From  feeble  fear — fancy's  unre-al  things — 
High  to  til'  eternal  hilis  ;  where,  as  a  river, 

Immortal  pleasure  jxiiirsits  ceaseless  tide  : 

Thro'  Ilim,  the  morcifnl,  for  man  thai  died, 
I  might  ascend  ;  and  there  abide  for  ever ! 
But  now— my  lot's  oppressiveness  I  feel : 
Yet  haply  this,  e'en  this,  is  for  my  weal. 


TO  THE  WIND. 


Passing,  passing— tempestuous  \Yind, 

Leaving  no  track  in  the  heav'ns  behind. 

Save  the  sullen  clouds,  with  their  mantles  torn  ; 

And  the  dying  Moon,  of  her  lustre sliorn, 

borrowing, dim,  in  her  dusky  cave; 

As  howls  thy  blast  o'er  land,  and  o'er  wave. 

II. 

Passing,  passing— imjxjtuous  Wind  ! 
Leaving  a  desolate  world  behind ; 


21* 


ii'ww'UPiywr"'  ■"  -iH'" •  w"«;wf*  i.ii.ii»in"*,iw.i)ip|uiii,uj » '»■ 


r 


242 


TO  THE  WIND. 


'Bove  the  horizon's  mountainous  bar. 
Sublimely  soaring  to  lands  afar: 
Blast  upon  blast,  and  surge  upon  surge, 
Sweeping  along  to  the  earth's  far  verge. 

in. 

Restless,  raging,  terrific  Wind  ! 
Who  can  thy  limbs  with  fetters  bind  ? 
King  of  the  clouds !  imperious  Storm  ! 
What  pow'r  can  imprison  thy  chainless  form  ? 
None  but  His,  who  first  bade  thee  roam 
Resistless  o'er  earth,  and  o'er  ocean's  foam. 


i 


IV. 

Comest  thou  from  the  cavern  deep, 
Where  the  giant  gusts  of  the  mountain  sleep  : 
Till,  wakei\ed  by  toss  of  the  tempest's  mane. 
Scour  the  wild  blasts  o'er  hill  and  o'er  plain ; 
And  their  shout  makes  tremble  both  tow'r  and  tree, 
O'erturuing  the  pride  of  the  forest  free  ? 


Comest  thou  from  the  chambers  lone, 

'Neath  the  silver  ring  of  the  Arctic  Zone  ; 

Where  the  dome  of  the  North,  in  starry  state, 

O'erhangs  the  hall  where  the  Storms  debate  ? 

Bounds  tlie  spring  of  thy  meteor-steed 

O'er  the  icy  chasms,  where  the  snow-birds  breed  ? 


/ 


n? 


P: 


d  tree, 


td? 


TO   THE   WIXD. 


VI. 


243 


Wendest  ihou  to  the  lands  afar, 

Where  the  palmj-  groves  of  the  Orient  are  ? 

Or  gather  thy  gales  resistless  breath, 

To  sweep  the  South,  on  errand  of  death  ? 

To  hurl  the  sands  thro'  the  desert  air, 

Whore  the  Simoom  scorches  with  lurid  glare  ? 

vn. 
TIiou  hast  a  voice :  let  its  accents  say — 
Whither  is  wending  thy  course  away  ? 
Thunders  that  voice,  with  awful  tone— 
'Mortal !  my  path,  tho'  to  thee  unknown; 
Is  measured,  and  bounded,  by  Him  on  high  : 
He  points  my  wild  wing  where  to  fly.' 

virr. 
'Tis  fearful  to  stand  on  the  summit  lone, 
Where  the  giant  rock  uplifts  his  throne  ; 
And  gazing  around,  from  that  steep  watch-tow'r, 
Eehold  the  tempest  walk  forth  in  pow'r  : 
Uj)lifting  the  waves  of  the  rolling  main  ; 
And  bending  the  forests,  as  golden  grain. 

Yet  it  is— oh  !  'tis  a  more  fearful  sight, 
To  see  Earth  swept  by  a  sterner  blight, 
Its  beauty,  its  joj^  still  overcast ; 
While  Death  rides  along  on  the  fun'ral  blast- 
To  view  sin  spreading  from  shore  to  shore  : 
Saviour  !  oh  !  when  will  that  storm  be  o'er  ? 


-wqpii^^^iAP  n>'|ik  J^!!W',)<«if.v'i' ,  immn''  i^iiuu.«  vr^  ■  'u'm  'mp 


ii 


244 


te:wptation.    the  release. 


TEMPTATION. 


Heart  !  bo  thou  firm  ;  fis  adamanr,  my  mind : 
My  failli,  unfailing  as  the  massive  rock, 
Tliat  meets,  unmoved,  lemposluons  ocean's  shock. 
I  licar  the  howling  of  the  savage  wind 
Come  from  the  cavern,  where  no  fetters  bind 
Its  blasts,  that  rage  around  in  fr.ry  blind  : 

Storms,  and  the  crash  of  thunder,  and  the  glare 
Of  evil  eyes,  and  yells  of  him  accursed — 
Proud  potentate  !  in  ill,  supreme  and  worst — 

Surround  my  path,  and  threaten  black  despair. 
S[!irit  of  Glory  !  guide  me  lest  I  stray; 

Spirit  of  Pow'r  !  Thine  aid  oh  !  let  mo  share  : 
Light  of  the  world  !  shed  on  my  darkling  way 
Thy  smiles  of  love,  which  make  eternal  day. 

THE  PtELEASE. 


1  SAT  amid  the  dungeon's  deepest  gloom, 

Prisoned,  and  pining  for  the  cheerful  day  ; 

Tliat  thro'  the  bars  above  sent  down  one  ray, 
To  show  the  daikness  of  that  living  tomb: 
1  thought  of  summer,  with  its  golden  bloom  ; 

Verdure  of  meadows,  and  the  garden's  pride ! 

And  sunny  rivers,  with  their  silver  tide, 
Reflecting  banks  that  !)reathed  a  rich  perfume ; 

Ocean's  blue  waters  decked  with  many  a  sail, 


ii 


'I 


THE    KELEASE. 


1346 


ck. 


Morn's  clieek  of  rosas,  dowy  twiliglit  pule  : 
And,  dearer  far  than  lho.se— the  friends  with  wliom 

My  spirit  held,  of  old,  coiamuniou  sweet. 
Balm  of  the  soul !  blest  Love  !  thou  canst  illume 

Tlie  solitude,  where  parted  ones  ne'er  meet. 

ir. 

I  dwelt  within  the  dungeon's  d  irksome  night ; 
The  iron,  with  its  chill  oppressive  weight. 
Link  upon  link,  was  round  me :  thro'  the  grate, 

Strange  fiendish  forms  grinned  ghastly  with  delight ; 

blocking  my  misery  in  hellish  spite  ; 

i^owed  the  black  arch  above  me,  stern  and  old, 
And  grim,  with  horror  made  tlie  blood  run  cold  ; 

And  ever  and  anon,  before  my  sight, 

Shadowy  shapes  waved  each  a  gory  shroud. 

White,  yet  with  crimson  stained,  like  morning's  cloud. 

Tlius  fear  appalled  my  heart,  with  grievous  might : 
Then  did  I  lift  my  soul  above  the  sky, 

Went  my  weak  pray'r  beyond  th'  empyreal  heiglit^ 
*GoD  !  hear  my  feeble  groan ;  God  !  heed  my  cry.' 

HI. 

That  prayer  was  heard.     There  camo  an  awful  tone— 

It  was  not  voice  of  man,  or  beast,  or  bird  ; 

No  tempest  spake,  or  thunder  echo  stirred  ; 
But  a  deep  sullen  sound  like  nature's  groan  : 
And,  as  it  came— roof  and  foundation-stone — 

The  walls  of  that  dark  den  did  shake,  and  quiver  ; 

Crumbled  its  arch  to  dust ;  light,  as  a  river, 
Streamed  down  in  falling  floods :  around  were  strewn 


w. 


■  H»ll.l^.l|(UI||J'^m|VRrCVMf'i»W'P*l«l|JF 


24G 


TO  HEALTH. 


f      ! 


ni  .^l.;''|li.! 


The  links  of  that  my  cliain,  by  mercy  rent ; 

And  svvcclly  did  the  tiir's  pwro  element 
Breathe  bvihn,  aiiioiig  those  ruins  wide  o'erthrown. 

Rending  the  rocks,  the  earthquake  passed  away; 
Unhurt,  unharmed,  I  rose  ;  my  guards  were  flown  : 

Freely  I  bpcd,  wiiii  nonen\y  steps  to  slay. 

IV. 

Once  more  "iwas  mine  to  feel  the  frcsli'ning  air, 
That,  walking  o'er  the  waters  comes  to  greet 
The  early  wand'rcr  w'th  its  coolness  sweet ; 

Again  I  roved  tliro'  vernal  meadows  Hiir ; 

Again  the  garden's  llow'ry  bloom  could  share ; 
And  with  free  foot  brush  off  the  morning  dew  : 
By  the  calm  rill,  and  ocean's  billows  blue. 

Once  more  "twas  mine  to  roam  released  from  care  ; 
And  friends  were  smiling  near— the  loved  of  old — 
And  thrilled  my  heart,  tlieir  features  to  behold. 

How  should  I  praise  Thee,  Lord  !  who  bade  despair 
Yield  to  delight,  and  joy,  and  peace,  and  love ! 

To  Thee  I  send  aloft  my  liumble  prayer — 
'Oh  !  for  Thy  mercies,  may  I  grateful  prove !' 

TO  HEALTH. 


Ir^ 


.1 


1^ 


O  Tiiou  delightful  source  of  liope,  and  joy  I 
Thou  friend,  to  life,  to  man,  to  happiness  ; 

Fountain  of  pleasures  that  can  never  cloy  ! 
Religion,  balm  for  all  our  woes,  can  bless, 


w^^ 


FREED03I. 


247 


vn. 
ay; 
,n : 


I 


Without  tliine  aid,  the  weak  and  sr.fT'ringsoul — 

Solace  its  sorrows,  make  aJiiiction  loss  : 
With  hor  and  tlico,  how  blest  our  moments  roll ! 
How  sliall  we  find  tlicc  ?  Ileav'n  tJiat  gift  bestows  ; 

Yet  iiiii.st  \vc  use  the  means — a  quiet  mind, 
Toil,  temi)"rance,  early  hours,  strict  cleanliness, 
Gootl  air,  good  diet — Rv^itlier  more,  nor  loss, 

Than  nature  needs  ;  e:nj)loyiiiL>nt,of  such  kind 
As  pleases,  and  whicli  duties  still  impose; 
How  much  these  do  tou'rds  health,  he  that  has  tried  them 
knows. 


FJIEEDOM. 


re; 
)ld— 

lair 


m 


I. 

I  CANNOT  live  in  crowded  city — pent, 
Like  eagle  in  its  cage  :  my  soul  rej)inpd 
Ne'er  at  its  lot,  in  mortal  tiirall  confined  ; 

While  Earth  was  free,  and  the  great  element 
Of  air  flowed  fully  roinid.     E'en  as  the  wind, 

Walking  upon  the  mountain,  T  would  roam 

Bondless  an  1  free  ;  nor  will  I  lix  my  home 
In  man's  communities,  still  doomed  to  owe!' 

^Vith  walls  arounc!  me  :  as  soon  would  1  have 
^fy  bones  to  rot  in  tlie  cold  charnel  cell — 

When  T  am  dead — defrauded  of  a  grave. 

No  !  let  me  lie  at  iarge—tlie  long  grass  wave. 

And  the  wind  whistle,  o'er  me  :  I  would  be 

III  life,  in  death,  living,  or  dying,  free. 


i   ! 


ni»vfwm^.i.ivf\  u.Liui^i   niPMHJi^^pvPi.liM  llfil 


2-18 


NATURK  S  NOBILITV. 


II. 


Tree  !'  siiidst  tlioii,  Rovor  ?  Clirlst  can  make  thee  free. 

Tlio'  walls  ii])lift  uroiind  tlioe  tlioir  luigc  forms  ; 
By  Him  crirruncliisocl,boii(lloss  may'st  tl-ou  bo, 

As  rock-pcrclicd  eagle  ;  clminkvss  us  the  storms, 
That  wave  their  |  Iiiluns  on  the  mountain's  top  ; 

Firm  as  yon  pillared  sl^-y,  tlie  promise  stands: 
This  earth  may  fiec'  uway,  the  stars  may  drop — 

Captive  in  cities !  Ac  can  burst  thy  bands. 
There  frowns  no  cell,  where  snn-beam  ne'er  hath  come 

No  dungeon  deep,  where  nij^ht  arid  horror  breed, 

Where  pines  the  prisoned  wretch  in  solitude  : 
Hut  he  can  cheer,  and  cliaso  away  its  glci  m. 
Still  at  Ilife  touch,  shackles  and  fetters  fall 
frcm  the  freed  sou! ;  that  soars  at  once  from  tlifall. 

NATURE'S  NOBILITY. 


I  LOVE  the  great — the  few,  the  honored  great ; 
Wiiose  patent-deed  of  true  nobility 
Stamped  on  the  soul,  by  Ileav'n's  own  hand,  we  see. 

Til'  endowment  of  a  spirit  elevate 

Above  low  eirth;  the  power  of  godlike  thought- 
Nature's  free  boon,  that  never  can  be  bought — 

77ijs  Is  Nobility,  and  high  estate. 

The  paltry  proud — who  glory  in  their  gold, 
Their  titled  wealth  ;  ancestral,  broad  domains ; 
Their  lineage,  which  serves  in  lieu  of  brains— » 


li 


* 


THEBMOPYLJE. 


t 


•249 


May  mock  such  men ;  and  scornfully  behold  : 

Yet  the  crowned  king,  o'er  prostrate  realms  that  reigns, 
Hath  no  such  treasure  in  his  gift,  I  trow : 
The  monarchy  of  mind  Heav'n  can  alone  bestow. 


THERMOPYL^. 


I. 

Theri\iopyl.i:  ! 
I'roud  gate  of  glory ! 

Watchword  of  Liberty, 
Till  from  Time's  brow  be  rent  the  scant  locks  lioary ! 

While  O-^ta's  steep, 
t^tcrnly  majestic,  frowns  o'er  thy  dark  valley  ; 

Still  at  that  word,  with  passions  high  and  deep, 
Freedom's  true  sons  shall  to  the  conflict  rally. 

II. 

Boast  of  the  brave  ! 
The  hero's  charter ! 

Who— who  would  fear  a  grave, 
Like  his— Leonidas,— his  country's  martyr  ! 

Head  of  the  warrior  band, 
Whose  blood,  as  swells  the  torrent  from  the  mountain, 

Swept  slavery  afar  from  that  loved  land  ; 
And  purified  earth's  borders  with  its  fountain. 

22 


WJ  I'"*'  ^.'i''  ii'.^^M^^C'^nnnpaiw.iiji.i  ta^fgim 


250 


TIIEKMOTYL^, 


m. 


Thermopylae ! 
Thy  fame  is  glorious ; 

Hallowed  that  region  be, 
Where  fought  the  few,  o'er  million  slaves  victorious. 

We,  of  this  later  time, 
f!an  glow  e'en  at  the  talc  in  hist'ry's  pages  ; 

IIow  felt  at  the  great  hour  that  band  sublime, 
Whose  daring  deed  shines  through  the  gloom  of  ages  I 

IV. 

Where  Q^ta's  form 
Its  brow  np'fiftoth — 

Defies  the  rnginfr  storm, 
Frowns  at  the  thunder-blast  its  crag  that  rifieth  ; 

Sits  Freedom  on  her  throne. 
Based  by  the  mountain  on  its  broad  foundations : 

Wide  o'er  the  world,  and  not  fair  Greece  alone, 
Darts  her  bright  eagle  glance  through  all  the  nations. 

V. 

Thermopylae  ! 
Dea  thless  example ! 

Like  those  that  fought — the  free — 
Would  that  our  souls  the  legion  foe  might  trample  ! 

Have  we  no  heroes  now — 
Now  when  Heav'n's  light  the  universe  hath  kindled  ; 

Droop'ng  his  high-bom  jjrow, 
Path  monarch  Man  to  pigmy  stature  dwindled  ? 


T 


I 


THE   DYING   SOLDIER. 


251 


us. 


0, 


gcs 


VI. 

Spirit  of  War — 
Earth's  plague — still  slumber; 

Not  thee — not  thee  ;  thy  course  afar 
1  deprecate :  yet,  yet,  ye  chosen  number — 

On,  Christians  !  to  the  figlit  ; 
Hell  with  its  host  our  heav'nward  marcli  opposes ; 

Tlie  Prince  of  th'  aerial  povv'rs  displays  his  migiit 
Firm  be  your  ranks— the  front  of  battle  closes. 


THE  DYING  SOLDIER. 


ne, 

[IS. 


f> 


•With  shivered  spear,  and  with  dinted  shield, 
I  lay  me  in  blood,  on  the  battle  field  ; 
The  red  streams  gush  from  ray  gory  side, 
And  the  sword-gash  foams  with  a  purple  tide. 


IT. 


'My  brothers  in  arms  have  left  me  lone, 
With  the  graveless  dead  around  me  strown ; 
And  ere  morning  comes,  and  the  star  of  day 
Looks  bright  in  the  east,  I  shall  be  as  they. 


m. 


'They  have  left  me  lone,  to  bleed  and  to  die , 
Not  one  of  my  friends  or  of  kindred  nigh  ; 
With  the  vulture's  shriek  as  my  passing-bell, 
And  the  night-wind  to  ring  my  fun'ral  knell. 


"»iif'»j","i»7Ui   i»iip"   •  • 


ill 


I    11 

I 


J52 


THE  DYING    SOLDIER. 


IV. 


'iMy  heart  throbs  low,  and  mine  eye  is  dim, 
And  the  shadows  of  death  around  me  swim ; 
And  coldly,  coldly,  the  rains  distil 
On  my  faint  wet  brow,  and  my  bosom  chill. 


V. 


'Tiio'  low  beats  that  heart,  and  dim  be  that  eye, 

I  sec  a  vision,  before  me,  nigh ; 

Tlic  loved,  and  the  lost,  a  saintly  band, 

[n  all  their  kindness  and  beauty  stand. 


VI. 


■I\[otlior  !  is  that  thy  tencTcr  brca&t 

Tliat  wooes  thy  son  to  its  gentle  rest  ? — 

Father !  are  those  thy  lookj  of  love, 

That  beam  on  my  brow  like  smiles  from  above  ? 


vn. 


'Sisters  !  and  have  ye  come  to  bless 

Tiie  last  sad  hour  of  my  wretohedncss  ? 

Brother  !  I  feel  thy  friendly  grasp  ; 

And  my  heart's  blood  burueth  tliy  form  to  clasp. 


VIJI. 


'Wife  !  hast  thou  left  yon  azure  steep. 

To  watch  o'er  my  earthy  bed  and  weep. 

With  our  sv/eet  babes  shedding  their  tears  as  a  flood , 

To  see  me  laid  on  my  couch  of  bleed  ? 


IX. 


'But  whoso  is  this  wondrous  form  divine. 
Whose  eyes  of  light  thro'  my  spirit  shine, 


THE  SOLDIER  S  FU^ERAL. 


253 


Like  liic  dawning  of  Heav'n  ?  my  Saviour  !  'tis*  lie  ! 
He  comos  my  soul  from  her  bouda  to  free. 


X. 


'And  com'st  Thou,  Saviour  !  at  this  lato  liour 
To  visit  my  soul  with  tliy  grace  and  pow'r  ? 
I  fc^l  Thy  blest  love  within  my  heart, 
I  am  Thine  !  I  am  Tiiine  !  no  more  we'll  part.' 

XI. 

ill  passed — the  wind  rang hii  fun'ral  knoll  ; 
The  vulture's  shriek  was  his  passing-bell : 
Kre  morning  came,  and  the  star  of  day 
liOokcd  briglit  o'er  the  dead,  he  was  as  they. 

THE  SOLDIER'S  FUNERAL. 


.a 

i 


I. 

TuE  muflljd  drum  knolls  deeply,  hoarse  noioa  the  cornets  shed  ; 
Tlioy  boar  the  Soldier's  body  by,  to  mingle  with  tiie  dead  : 
With  manly  sorrow  on  each  brow,  behold  yon  vot'rans  droop  : 
As.  vision-like,  fleets  on  a  cloud,  passes  that  mournful  troop. 

n. 
Not  as  the  dirge  that  swelloth,  where  the  organ's  pealing  higii. 
In  the  dim  gloom  of  cathedral  aisle,  floaleth  majestic  I)y  ; 
When  choral  chaunt,  and  strain  sublime,  rich  harmonies  expand. 
As  to  sepulchral  vault  sinks  down  some  noble  of  the  land  : 

22* 


'•JJPIw»S'«'**«l'*f  ('  "  v^'tf  «■ - 


"fif  •TF»^yir»iIF»'T""rr, 


354 


THE  SOLDIER*S  FUNERAL. 


I  ^mm 


■  f 
ill*. 

I 


'ijl 


m. 
The  Soldier's  dirge  breathes  music  to  that  requiem  unknown, 
Heart-music  of  emotions  deep ;  whose  proud ,  yet  plaintive  tone , 
Thrills  o'er  the  spirits  of  the  brave,  in  kindlincps  that  yearn; 
JMingled  with  war's  fierce  minstrelsy,  the  trumpet's  clangour  stern. 

And  seem  to  say  those  echoes  of  that  intermitting  drum — 

'Ve  dwellers  in  eternity,  behold  !  we  come,  we  come  ! 

With  slow,  with  solemn  pace  we  come ;  with  sure,  progressive 

tread. 
Another,  and  another  still — we're  marcliing  to  the  dead.' 

V. 

With  pike  and  gun  inverted,  and  banners  furled  above, 
Bov  nd  W'ith  the  black  funereal  crape,  with  measured  stop  tliey  move : 
While  useless,  on  the  coffin's  lid.  the  carbine  true  is  seen  ; 
{Significant,  bespeaking  what  the  dead  below  hath  been. 

VI. 

And  there  the  keen  sword  shinctli,  with  belt  and  scabbard  bright, 

No  more  in  hand  of  hiui  below  to  glitter  in  the  flight : 

Tliat  hand  lies  cold  and  clenched  beneath,  like  that  of  those  who 

die, 
"Battling  with  the  torrinc  king,  in  mortal  agony.. 

VII. 

Death  came  not  sleep-like  o'er  him,  with  placid,  gentle  sway  ; 
Wild,  in  a  fever's  phrensied  rage,  his  spirit  burst  away  : 
One  fearful  pang — and  all  wa*^;  o'er,  the  blood  congealing  cold  ; 
The  Soldier's  form  left  but  a  clod  of  earth's  decaying  mould. 


»!IJW'.f!Pl'Wi'- '» MV-  "wm 


TJifSfWfff'wpilW'B^riWPBTSWip^pipJWIHW^^ 


THE  SOLDIER  S  FUNERAL. 


^ 


255 


nown, 
ive  tone , 
am; 
igour  stern. 


)rogres!>ivc 


d.' 


t'ley  move : 


rd  brio'ht. 
those  who 


jway  i 

g  cold ; 
Duld, 


vm. 
Pile,  pile  the  dark  earth  o'er  him  ;  and  beneath  the  shrouded  sun 
Raise,  raise  aloft  yourvolumed  smoke,  each  high-uplifted  gun  : 
And  while  your  requiem-thunder  roils,  reverberating  near  ; 
Earth,  heav'ns,  and  mortal  man,  attend  !  to  warning  words  givo 
ear. 

IX. 

Stand  we  upon  the  mountain  ;  o'er  whose  tremendous  verge, 

Til'  immeasurable  ocean  sweeps  its  unrcturning  surge — 

Its  multitude  of  billows— lil'e's  illimitable  sea 

Of  human  heads;  down  rolling  to  thy  gulf,  black  Death!  and 

thee. 

X. 

How  vain  to  think  of  resting,  in  fearful  state  lik.'  this, 
Catching  at  flow'rs  e'en  on  the  brink  that  ovcrhanss  th'  abvss  I 
Ye  souls !  be  wise — safety  secure — cling  to  that  arm  of  might ; 
That  can  sustain,  when  suns,  and  worlds,  sink  in  eternal  night.. 

XI. 

Soldier  !  it  matters  nothing,  whether  on  fevered  bed 
Tliy  dying  limbs  were  laid  at  last,  or  on  the  green  turf  spread  : 
Whether  kind  friends  watched  o'er  thee,  or  the  vulture's  cruel  eye ; 
If  as  a  Christian,  firm  in  faith,  thou  didst  in  conq'ring  die. 

XII. 

For  thine,  ifthon  hast  vanquished,  is  the  immortal  crown, 

Worn  by  the  warrior-host  above  in  victory's  renown  : 

Palms  and  white  robes  beseem  them  well ;  sleep,  Soldier,  in  thy 

bed; 
Nature  her  richest  bloom  bestow  ;  heav'ns  dews  be  o'er  thee  shed. 


m 


.  I 


m 


n  \Ai\mu 


\'wm 


256  THE  DEFENCE  OF  DERRY. 

THE  DEFENCE  OF  DERRY. 

I. 

On  Berry's  walls  the  cannon's  voice  spake  awfully  and  loud ; 

And  fast,  and  fierce,  its  fires  of  death  burst  from  the   volumed 

cloud  : 
And  dun  smoke  wreailiod,  with  rolling  miat,  the  far  blue  hills 

away  ; 

Whence  th'  old  forefathers' spirits   watched  the  conflict  of  th;U 

day. 

II. 

Tliero  sat  their  spirits,  on  those  hills — each  chief's  gigantic  form  ; 
With  glorious  eyes  of  other  days,  beheld  the  raging  storm  : 
Th?y  saw  their  sons  stand  stern,  and  free,  while  flashed  each 

fearful  gun ; 
And  beamed  their  eyes  full  brightly,  at  the  deeds  of  valour  done. 

111. 

A  thousand  hearts  were  burning,  in  that  pent  and  crowded  town. 
To  !<hed  their  blood,  as  martyrs,  for  England's  Churcirand  Crown  : 
•The  bod)'  of  tlieir  pastor-chief  lay  mould'ring  in  the  grave; 
And  never  closed  its  narrow  roof  o'er  patriot  more  brave. 

IV. 

But  hundred  heroes  filled  his  place,  with  kindred  daring  bold  ; 
And  battle's  thunders  roared  amain,  tho'  his  loved  corse  lay  cold ; 
And  wild  War  raised  his  thrilling  shout,  with  trumpet's  pealing 

proud ; 
Till  seemed — the  buried  brave  might  hear,  tho' wrapped  in  stilly 

shroud. 


!•<<•!  J!/*  www-'»iisr 


THE  DEFENCE  OF  DEKRT. 


267 


md  loud ; 
le  volumed 

'  blue  hills 
l;ct  of  that 


ntic  form  ; 
)rm  : 
ishcd  each 

our  done. 


-'dod  town, 
id  Crown ; 
ve; 
e. 


bold; 
'  lay  cold ; 

's  pealing 

1  in  stilly 


I 


V. 

There  stood  a  spectre  o'er  the  dead,  with  fleshless,  bony  hands — 
Gaunt  Famine's  form,  and  name  it  bore — and  frowned  upon  those 

bands : 
And  many  a  gallant  cheek  waxed  white,  that  knew  not  fear  or 

dread ; 
As  fell  that  pallid  spectre's  pow'r  on  limbs  whose  might  had  fled. 

VI. 

But  soon  as  summons  to  the  fight  had  reached  those  ghastly  men, 
With  vigour  strange  each  feeble  form  was  sternly  steeled  again  : 
Tho"  nature  asked  refreshment,  for  the  worn  and  weary  frame  ; 
Yet  loyal  love,  and  fealty  iirm,  had  still  a  stronger  claim : 

VII. 

And  rushed  they  to  the  battle,  with  a  war-cry  hoarse  and  deep, 
As  roars  tho  torrent  from  the  rock,  when  snows  have  left  its  steep 
When,  at  the  touch  of  torrid  sun,  the  mighty  stream  swells  high  ; 
And  mountain  cliffs  are  crumbled  as  it  foams  in  fury  by. 

VIII. 

A  traitor  vile  had  held  command  o'er  hearts  so  brave  and  true  ; 
And  Berry's  gates  to  cruel  foes  he  widely  open  threw. 
Tiieir  marshalled  force  came  nigh  and  close  : — but,  at  that  mo- 
ment, rose 
A  gen'rous  band  of  youths,  to  hurl  defiance  on  those  foes; 

IX. 

Boarded,  and  beardless,  in  t?ieir  pride,  with  bosoms  heaving  high — 
The  spirit  of  a  hundred  hosts  flashed  forth  in  ev'ry  eye : 


■Tt-*-?*"^  :  ' '■™.--'*-:i 


•w^ '  •v^rv:-' 


m 


i 


if 


1 


11 


258 


THE  DEFENCE  OF  DERRY. 


And  Dcrry's  gates  wore  trebly  barred ;  and  o'er  her  broad  based 

walls, 
From  black-mouthed  cannon,    swept  a  storr.  of  death-directed 

balls. 

X. 

And  now — tho'  long  to  dismal  strife  with  foes  and  famine  giv'n— 
Behold  !  upon  those  gallant  few  smiles  down  proj)itions  Heav  n  ; 
And  Vict'ry  docks,  with  honours  bright,  and  palms  of  rich  re 

nown, 
The  conquerors  that  triumphed  for  England's  Church,  and  Crown. 

XI. 

Wake,  Erin  !  from  thy  trance  of  years — Ilibernia  !  bless  the  day, 
When  loyal  love,  and  fealty  firm,  eifiilgod  as  lightning's  ray  : 
When  tliy  green  fields,  as  Eden  fair,  were  saved  from  despot 

blight ; 
And  thy  true-hearted,  fire-souled  sons,  put  forth  resistless  mig'iit. 

XII. 

liCt  Derry's  ramparts — banks  of  Eoyke — attest  the  wondrous 

pow'r, 
That  heav'n-born  faith,  and  manly  worth,  afford  in  danger's  hour  : 
Helped  from  on  high,  how  such  prevail ;  as  in  dusk  reign 

night, 
Wlien  th'  Moon  hath  set,  do  starrv  worlds  effuse  their  fairest 

light. 


tiiiiu 


■■i<^flip.wjiiiv«^-'iy-''-™»^'|'"'»Hi»^-e«B.iiTui([|ii|iii  l«ipi^  i^iiwi 


THE  SPIRES  OF  OLD  ENGLAND. 


259 


jroad  based 
itli-directcd 


THE  SPIKES  OF  OLD  ENGLAND. 


ine  giv'n— 
>  Heav  11 ; 
)f  rich  re 

nd  Crown. 

IS  the  day, 
ray  : 
cm  despot 


s  migiit. 


vvonarous 


Br's  hour : 


reign 


ir  fairest 


I. 


The  spires  of  old  England  !  that  point  to  the  skies, 
To  the  goal  of  our  hopes,  whore  the  heart's  treasure  lies  ; 
To  the  home  of  the  spirit,  whore  Jesus  is  gone — 
To  mansions  of  glory  which  Jesns  hath  won. 


II. 


The  spires  of  old  England  !  that  taper  above, 

Like  the  heart's  upward  flame  when  it  burneth  with  love ; 

Wiien  bright  with  the  dew  of  its  heavenly  binh, 

Tlie  soul  looks  aloft  from  the  shadows  of  cartii. 

iir. 
The  fair  village-church  !  with  its  white  walls  of  snow, 
Its  ivy -crowned  porch,  with  the  stone  scats  below  : 
Where,  sheltered  alike  from  the  storm  and  tlie  sun, 
Youno"  and  aged  mav  rest,  when  their  labour  is  done, 

IV. 

Meek  temple  of  God !  with  its  altar  and  shrine. 
Where  man  may  drink  deep  of  the  fountain  divine  : 
Where  the  prince  ond  the  peasant  their  Maker  adore — 
Then  blend  in  one  dust,  when  life's  travail  is  o'er. 

V. 

The  green  sodded  graves  !  that  affection  hath  dressed 
With  wreaths  of  bright  flowers, — where  the  wearied  ones  rest ; 
The  eloquent  marble  !  last  tribute  to  those. 
The  loved  and  the  lost,  that  in  silence  repose ; 


^^m 


!i 


it  ! 


m 


i;l  ;.  ■(  ■ '  I 


m 


260 


THE  SPIRES  OF  OLD  ENGLAND. 


VI. 


Blest  church  of  my  fathers !  tho'  far  o'er  tlie  wave 
I've  wandered  from  thee,  and  the  loved  in  the  grave ; 
Though  the  friends  of  my  youth  he  all  sleeping  afar — 
Be  thou  my  home  ever,  my  bright  polar-star ! 

VII. 

Remote  in  the  forest,  where  Canada's  snow, 
Or  her  sunlight  of  summer,  falls  brightly  below ; 
I  see  thee,  T  see  thoe  in  somblo  >cc  arise — 
Thine  offspring  of  beauty  is  dear  to  my  eyes. 

VII  I. 

O  fair  tender  scion  !  whose  early  youth  seems 
Reflection  of  her  that  haunts  memory's  dreams ; 
How  fr>ir,  yet  how  foeble — far  off  and  away — 
Thy  leaflets  are  waving,  thy  flow'r  drinks  the  day ! 

IX. 

In  sorrow,  in  weakness,  like  sire-bcrcft  cliild, 
That  no  mother  hath  cared  for,  thou  wecp'st  in  the  wild  : 
Yet  dried  be  thy  tears,  and  thy  mourning  forego ; 
For  the  Lord  is  thy  banner,  and  smiles  on  thy  woe. 

X. 

The  Ijord  is  thy  banner !  the  might  of  his  power 
Shall  shield  thee  and  save  thee,  thou  young  forest  flower  ! 
Thy  foes  cannot  crush  thee,  tho'  slight  be  thy  stem. 
For  the  Lord  is  with  iheCy  and  but  weakness  with  ihern. 

XI. 

Meek  temple  of  God  !  when  oppression  and  ruth 
Are  po  .red  on  thy  walls,  be  thy  bulwark  the  truth  ; 


I 


Jtw^wmwP-'^M* 


THE   MOURNING   MOTHER. 


2G1 


Thoiigli  tempest  and  flood  in  their  fury  unite, 
Stand  tirin  in  the  Lord,  in  the  power  of  his  might. 


XII. 


Tljougli  the  curse  of  the  godless  upon  thee  bepsvoJ, 
Oh  !  be  thou  still  blessed  with  the  smile  of  the  Lerd ; 
lie  thy  battlement  strong  !  thy  foundation  below 
Firmly  based  on  the  Rock,  that  no  power  can  o'erthrow. 

XIII. 

'J  hen  grow,  and  still  gather  the  good  of  the  clime — 
Till  strong  in  the  stature  of  manhood  and  prime, 
The  fullness  of  glory  around  thee  be  spread, 
And  thy  white-vestured  form  be  all  worthy  thy  Head  ! 

THE  MOURNING  MOTHER: 

OU  THK  CHURCH  AND  HER  CniLDREN. 


I. 

In  a  desolate  land,  where  the  snow  lay  deep, 
I  saw  for  her  children  a  mother  weep : 
Sorrow  had  filled  her  heart  to  the  brim  ; 
Her  cheek  was  pale,  and  her  eye  was  dim  : 

n. 
And  each  burning  tear,  e'en  as  it  fell. 
Became  on  that  cheek  an  icicle ; 
An  ice-drop  of  woe — dark,  stagnant,  and  chill, 
Like  the  blood  of  a  heart  that  for  aye  lies  still. 

SB 


' 


i!l! 


26-3 


THE   MOURNIKG   MOTHER, 


m. 


She  wept  for  her  babes,  for  her  little  ones 
Afar  from  her  bosom — both  daughters  and  sons ; 
For  she  had  no  home  in  that  wilderness, 
To  gather  them  in,  and  to  cheer  and  to  bless. 

IV. 

And  roved  those  children  like  lambs  astray, 
And  the  wolf  had  made  of  the  weak  a  prey  : 
And  fecattercd  were  all  as  without  a  fold  ; 
And  llic  love  of  many  had  long  waxed  cold. 

V. 

Vet  some  remained — and  those  not  a  few — 
Who  burned  witli  affection  both  warm  and  true  ; 
Uplifting  their  prayers  to  Ilim  on  high, 
Tliat  their  mother's  tears  might  soon  be  dry. 

VI. 

A  clcnd  on  their  s-piritslny  dark  and  deep, 

And  their  eyes  as  a  fountain  ne'er  ceased  to  weep  ; 

Beholding  the  scorn  of  tlie  scoffer  rest 

On  the  hallowed  form,  that  their  souls  loved  best, 

vn. 
It  vanished — that  mournful  scene  went  by, 
A.S  a  dream  of  the  night  when  morn  is  nigh  : 
I  saw  that  mother  in  beauty  stand, 
Encircled  by  sons — a  blissful  band. 

vni. 
And,  like  olive  plants  in  vernal  pride, 
Her  blooming  daughters  adorned  her  side  : 


luw  iifii  wnAiim.9 


..UVIfJfinglSll^lilfm^UHm'^^mV^^W^  Ufll^^,ill).JJp|iMWJ»P|(,MIPWWI!WftPill-itlWPJ.I''''' 


THE   WANDERER  BRODGHT   HOME. 


203 


And  thrilled  my  soul  that  mother  to  so?, 
flailing  in  love  mid  her  family. 


IX. 


For  joy  noic  filled  her  heart  to  the  brim  ; 
Not  pale  was  her  cheek,  her  eye  was  not  dim  : 
But  glory,  like  that  of  the  noon-day  sky, 
Shed  lustre  around  from  that  tearless  eye. 


X. 

Then  rose  a  temple,  whose  marble  vied 
'With  the  nevv-fall'n  snow  by  the  sunbeam  dyed ; 
Whose  spires  of  gold  seemed  the  stars  to  kiss  ; 
And  she  welcomed  them  into  that  home  of  bliss. 

XI. 

And  Uience  shall  those  children  no  more  depart ; 
For  the  love  of  that  home  lies  deep  in  their  heart : 
And  death  cannot  sever  the  sacred  tie. 
Which  binds  as  one  soul  that  family. 

THE  WANDERER  BROUGHT  HOME 


I  ROVED  thro'  a  forest  both  grey  and  old, 
Where  but  tangled  trees  did  mine  eye  behold  : 
And  the  king  of  the  storms  on  the  whirlwind  came. 
And  the  lightning  crested  the  clouds  with  flame ; 
And  the  thunder-blast  thro'  the  branches  burst, 
And  the  foul  fiend  yelled  with  his  cries  accursed  ; 


r 


ml 


JiP 


264  THE    WANDERER   BROUGHT  UOMZ. 

n. 

And  night,  as  the  outer  darkness  of  hell, 
In  its  blackness  of  gloom  o'er  that  forest  fell  : 
But  the  frequent  flash  from  the  lurid  cloud, 
That  warped  o'er  the  heav'ns  its  murky  shroud, 
Sufficed,  with  its  funeral  light,  to  show 
That  my  way  was  lost,  and  my  lot  was  woe. 

in. 
I  wandered,  alone,  along,  away, 
With  none  to  guide  me  as  I  did  stray ; 
And  the  home  where  my  soul  desired  to  be. 
That  throbbed  my  heart  and  my  brain  to  see, 
Rose  not  upon  my  benighted  view  : — 
Mine  eye  was  darkness,  my  hopes  withdrew. 

IV. 

Full  many  a  path  since  the  morning-hour, 
Pleasant  with  green  and  the  wild  wood-flow 'r, 
Had  I  trod — still  deeming,  as  on  I  roved, 
Each  would  conduct  to  the  land  I  loved  : 
Full  many  a  sparkling  stream  I  crossed ; 
But  found  at  e'en  that  my  way  was  lost. 

V. 

The  friends  that  near  me  full  long  were  found. 
Each  had  strayed  mid  the  paths  around ; 
And  lonely  and  sad  as  my  steps  I  plied 
Grim  darkness  and  fear  was  at  my  side  : 
No  star  looked  bright  from  the  frowning  hcav'n, 
No  guiding  ray  to  my  soul  was  given. 


J  ii 


~^«1«*V^^PVB«' 


9""^^"^ 


^■■^{■**PliPIH(fP"Mmap^^*>Tr 


THE    WANDEREK  BKOUGIIT   HOME. 


265 


VI. 

Weak  child  of  dust — on  the  wet,  colJ  sod, 
1  sank,  while  my  soul  uplooked  to  God ; 
Uplooked  to  Ilim,  who,  enthroned  on  bioli, 
►Still  hoars  and  heeds  when  th'  afiliclcd  cry 
While  sank  my  form  upon  kindred  clay  ; 
My  spirit  arose,  in  strength,  to  pray. 

vn. 
What  was  my  pray'r,  while  the  whirlwind  came, 
And  circled  my  brow  the  lightning's  flame — 
While  the  thiuider  roared  from  its  throne  the  cloud, 
A:id  the  tempest  threatened  both  deep  and  loud — 
What  was  my  pray'r  as  howled  by  the  blast. 
And  the  darkness  of  death  o'er  the  heav'n.;  was  ci.st  ? 

VIIL 

There  sped  no  sound  from  my  pulseless  breast. 
The  heart  stood  still  in  its  fearful  rest ; 
I\o  accents  of  mine  on  the  gale  were  iieard. 
Nor  voice,  nor  breath,  in  my  bosom  stirred  : 
But  my  spirit  waxed  strong  in  silent  pray'r. 
And  soared  'bove  the  shadows  of  black  despair 

IX. 

1  prayed — '  that  the  light  of  love  divine, 

As  a  lamp  to  my  feet,  and  my  soul,  might  shlno ; 

That  He,  who  for  sinful  man  did  bleed, 

Thro'  the  tangled  forest  my  way  would  speed  ; 

And  brinw  me  at  last  to  the  wished-for  home. 

Whence  my  wearied  spirit  no  more  should  roam.'     . 

22* 


266 


THE  WANDERER  BUOUGHT  HOME. 


■^a 


X. 

While  lowly  tluis  unto  God  I  prayed, 

A  silvery  beam  thro'  the  forest  played  ; 

Like  the  moon's  sweet  ray,  when,  at  midnight  lone, 

1  lor  gentle  light  o'er  the  world  is  strown  : 

Hushed  was  the  the  storm  ;  o'^er  my  feeble  frame, 

A  viirour  more  than  of  mortal  came. 

xr. 

I  rooo.  and  looked  thro'  that  forest  gro3% 

For  the  path  whence  my  feet  slrojild'  no  longer  stray  ; 

I  sought,  mid  its  tangled  thickets  old, 

If  the  home  of  this  heart  might  mine  eye  behold : 

l'\?A  was  my  fear — as  a  bird  in  spring 

Hope  hovered  around  on  buoyant  wing. 

xn. 
Then  came,  as  from  heav'n,  a  white  winged  dove, 
With  liquid  lapse  thro'  the  skies  above  ; 
And  as,  like  a  star,  it  before  mo  went — 
Methought  'twas  on  errand  of  mercy  sent, 
To  guide  me  thro'  maze  of  that  forest  lone. 
With  its  thousand  paths  and  thickets  o'ergrown. 

XIII. 

Onward  I  sped ;  the  gloom  was  gone — 
A  beauteous  light  o'er  the  prospect  shone ; 
And  gilded  with  gold  of  morning's  ray, 
And  bright  with  the  beam  of  new-born  day, 
I  viewed  the  home  where  my  soul  would  bo ;; 
Tiiat  throbbed  my  heart  and  my  brain  to  se?. 


^P9Mr9?V!"'M>pmp««" 


ni   -i.iviiiiimiiimmivip* 


•ptv^ 


COMING    TO  CHRIST. 


267 


XIV. 

O  CiiURcn  OF  God  !  where  iho  wearied  rest — 
Home  of  the  spirit,  beloved  and  blest ! 
Where  wanders  the  soul  thro'  forests  dark, 
Or  when  ocean's  wild  wave  surround  our  bark  ; 
May  mercy  still  beacon  our  course  to  thee, 
Our  home,  our  haven,  by  land,  by  sea ! 

COMING  TO  CHRIST. 


Chcist  has  declared — 'whoever  come  to  Ilim, 
Shall  not  bo  cnst  away :'  therefore  I  come. 
With  utterance  of  woe  which  ne'er  is  duinu, 

To  Thee,  the  living  God  !  from  darkness  dim, 

Where  shadows  as  of  death  around  me  swim, 

Ascends  my  soul  aloft,  where  seraphim 
Circle  Thy  throne :  where  the  archangels  veil 

Their  starry  eyes :  beyond  the  dusky  cloud — 

Earth's  canopy — to  where  Thy  hand  hath  bowed 
Yonder  bright  heav'ns ;  whose  glories  ne'er  wax  pale 

Behold  I  come,  strong  in  my  misery  ! 
Tho'  man,  of  woman  born,  be  weak  and  frail ; 
Yet,  with  no  fear  that  this  my  pray'r  can  fail, 

I  bend  before  Thy  throno  :  do  Thou  my  helper  be. 


I 


268 


liji I  „jM,ii ii||4iL|4i||^jiiwpiiiiiMiyii^|jy|i^/i»|wti.p^i,ii!-.  ly i 


!  Lh    THINK   ON    THEE. 


I'LL  TillNK  ON  THEE. 


At  midnight,  whan  earth's  sabl^  sliadow  dwellctli 
Deejjiy  and  darkly  over  land  and  soa — 

W!:on  not  one  slngl?  star  the  glocui  dispellcth — 
Lord  of  all  life !  my  soul  shall  think  on  Thea. 

11. 

At  even,  when  Jay'si  weary  oye  i;i  closinu, 
And  silent  naturo  .ii ambers  poaccrully  ; 

And  on  her  bro.i.st  her  children  lie  repo.iing, 

Hushed  in  sweet  res-; ;  O  Lord  !  Til  think  on  Tlioc. 

m. 

An'  whr-n  t'logoldjn  c;irb  of  nnrn  enfoldelh 
Each  mountain,  and  each  valley,  fair  to  see; 

When  pleasant  are  the  aijrjits  man':;  eye  beholdoth, 
In  earth  and  heaven  ;  O  Lord !  Fll  think  en  Thee. 

tv. 

At  the  d^c^,  ncoM,  conipanionless  and  loneiv, 
Tracinrr  my  trackless  steps  where  none  can  see — 

iSavc  yon  br.iad  eye  of  glory  beaming  only 
In  the  blue  vault ;  O  Lord  !  I'll  think  en  Thee. 

V. 

In  solitude,  in  crowds,  in  rest,  in  motion — 
By  night,  by  cay,  upon  the  land  or  «ea — 

In  deserts  dark,  or  tossed  on  troubled  ocean. 
Lord  of  all  life !  my  soul  shall  think  on  Theo. 


THE    MOiiNING   ftjia. 


2G0 


vr. 
From  all  of  sin  and  wicked  works  avert  me  ; 

Open  mine  eyes,  that  I  thy  love  may  see  : 
'•Keep  me  from  evil,  that  it  may  not  hurt  me ;" 

And  then  with  joy — my  God  !  I'll  think  on  Tiiee. 

THE  MORNING  SUN. 


I. 

How  glorious  is  the  morning  sxin, 
That  gilds  the  world  with  light  ! 

How  like  a  monarch  doth  he  lua 
In  proud,  imperial  rniglit ! 

n. 

Aloft  toward  heaven  hehold  him  bound- 
Beneath  liis  buimug  eye, 

A  flood  of  splendour,  all  around, 
Enkindles  earth  and  sky . 

in. 
Majestic,  free — liigh  o'er  the  bills 

He  lifts  his  lustrous  brow  ; 
Yon  azure  arch  with  glory  fills, 

With  light  the  world  below. 

IV. 

Morn,  rosy,  blushing,  meets  his  glance, 
With  cheek  of  crimson  hue ; 

Magnificent,  heav'n's  wide  expanse 
Ten  thousand  tints  bestrc  y. 


TTr¥f]''ii 


•J70 


lllZ    MOKMNG    SUN. 


V. 

The  rivers  rush,  with  gladd'niug  voice, 

To  greet  him  on  his  way ; 
Earth's  universal  reahiis  rejoice, 

An  J  bless  the  King  of  Day. 

VI. 

Lo  !  the  broad  sea  nplifts  in  love 

Its  curling  billows  high  ; 
To  wclccine,  to  his  throne  above  ; 

The  Sov'reign  of  the  sky. 

VII. 

Its  whisp'ring  tones  the  forcsi  blends 

W^iih  music  of  the  sea  ; 
And  song  of  birds,  that  sweet  ascends 

Like  angels'  harmony. 

vm. 

The  silv'ry  streams  that  thread  the  grove, 

Bright  glilt'ring  to  his  ray, 
Utter  sweet  voices  as  ti^ny  nve — 

Soft  music  as  they  stray. 

IX. 

Their  forms  sublime  the  hills  tnifold, 

Wrapped  in  ethereal  fire  ; 
Crowned  bright  with  light  of  living  gold, 

Tlieir  heads  to  heav'n  aspire. 

The  lakes,  slight  rippling  to  the  breeze, 
Calm  wake  from  gentle  rest; 


WSff«*<BHli;<iiUf^ 


iiiliJiJIMIW'WJW"'!'!''''''*''-       '■    ■■W'!'JPIWJ"II!I«,"IHUI'-". 


THE    MORXING    SLN. 


271 


?,iun)'s  ;5j)irit  stirs  among  the  trees, 
Willi  venal  blossoms  divssed. 


XI. 

La'io-h  tlio  blithe  flowers  ;  with  sportive  orlec, 

Tiic  wilt!  herds  bound  along  : 
Fieius.  forests,  uioimtains,  Ir.ncl  niid  sea, 

Burst  fortli  in  one  glad  son;,'. 

XII. 

Dead  matter  smiles ;  I)eside  the  stream 
T;;c  col'I  rocks,  stern  and  grey, 

With  looks  of  love  embrace  his  beam, 
And  revel  in  his  ray. 

XIII. 

A  ijjundless  blaze  of  living  li.' '.it 

l>.ir.>t5  from  the  ylowing  cast ; 
ricd  areliic  frowns  of  cheerless  night ; 

ll.ir;h's  dreary  dreams  have  ceased. 

XIV. 

Nature  oxulis  :  'Wake,  world  !  awake. 

To  life  and  love,'  she  cries  ; 
'Bricf-diiring  jlorn  !  thy  sleep  forsake, 

With  joyful  heart  arise." 

XV. 

'  Wake,  iMorn  !  awake  :  it  is  the  honr 

When  gates  of  heav'n  unfokl : 
When  Paradise,  in  beauty's  pow'r, 

'Slxy  mortal  eyes  behold.' 


^^Wi  'V'"l*v5IW»i^'"!n""'9#  •'!VJ»5«aHB?l!'''MW"« 


U:^U 


272 


M'ISTEK. 


WINTER. 


'% 


IB 


ii:';: 


I. 

O  Summer  !  thou  art  beautiful ;  thy  glory,  and  thy  bli^s, 
Socin  doubly  bvight  to  memory  in  moments  like  to  this, 
When  the  winter-fiend  is  howling,  and  the  tempests  liemly  blow; 
And  all  around  us  earth  expands  a  wilderness  of  sncw. 

II.  , 

The  icicles,  beneath  the  eaves,  break  with  a  clalt'rirg  soiiiid  ; 
The  snow-flakes,  from  the  roof,  by  night,  crash  en  ihe  frcztn 

ground : 
While  howls  the  wolf  with  horror,  in  his  cavern,  gaunt  niid  oihn  ; 
And  agonized,  the  forest  writhes  each  massive,  migb.ty  lin;b. 

m. 

The  monarch  mountain  stands  aghast,— his  heart  thougli  f.uii  is 
shaken ; 

While,  summoned  by  the  tempest-king,  the  caverncd  cc  l.ocs  wa- 
ken : 

,Low  in  the  vale,  where  lie  tlie  loved,  each  in  their  narrow  bed, 

Groans  o'er  the  graves  the  hollow  wind — strange  mourning  Ibrihe 


dead ! 


IV. 


The  wan  moon,  mid  the  shiv'ring  stars,  look  desolate  and  dim  ; 
All  languidly  the  sun  uplifts  his  brow  o'er  ocean's  brim ; 
Glares  with  a  faint  eye  shudd'ring  above  the  lurid  wave, 
Ghastly  as  huinan  face  divine  that  withers  in  the  grave. 


WINTEK. 


273 


■Cfly  blow; 

;oi!nd  ; 
rczen 

ard  oriin ; 
liniL). 

'cii  fiiJii  is 

(  l.CCS  Wil- 

>\v  Ijt'd. 
ing  lor  the 

ru!  (iiin  ; 


V. 

The  dawn-star,  like  a  sparkle  of  that  mock,  unreal  sun, 

Believed  of  old  to  shine  for  those  whose  earthly  day  is  done 

Sun  of  the  dead,  whoso  spectral  ray  in  Erebus  gave  litrhi, 

To  show  the  darkness— opes  its  eye  with  cold  effidgcnce  britrht. 

VI. 

Oh  !  hasten  Summer  !  with  thy  blush  of  maiden  beauty  bright ; 
Again  be  earth  a  paradise  with  flow'ry  vesture  dight : 
Let  the  great  sun  look  down  from  heav'n  with  an  unclouded  eye ; 
Again,  by  night,  the  moon  be  decked  whh  silv'ry  smiles  on  liigh. 

VII. 

Ariso,  my  soul  '.though  winter's  frost  hath  chilled  creation  round. 

Tiioiigh  howls  the  wolf  and  shrieks  the  storm,  with  voice  of  fear- 
ful sound  ; 

Hast  though  not  better  cause  for  clieer,  than  summer's  radiant 
bloom  ? 

Cannot  a  Saviour's  love  thy  darkest  dreariness  illume  ? 

SPRING. 


0  Spring  !  thou  art  a  season  of  delight ; 
All  round  is  beauty,  all  above  is  bright ; 
In  garb  of  loveliness  the  earth  is  dressed, 
Sweet,  fragrant  flow'rs,  are  blooming  on  her  breast. 
]\Iore  vivid,  hourly,  grows  that  garb  of  green ; 
Burst  forth  the  buds  behind  their  velvet  screen ; 
The  forest  spreads  its  leaflets  to  the  sky. 
Gilt  with  a  radiant  glory  from  on  high : 

34 


V.  : 


u 


»K  p; '   tl 


"I 


.  "•  ."J'  » 


/    » 


2T4  srnisG. 

The  lender  dews  descend  in  tears  of  bliss, 
And  all  night  long  the  humid  herbage  kiss  ; 
And  thence  arise,  at  dawn  of  early  morn, 
To  nurse  the  infant  blassoms  newly  born. 
Freed  from  its  icy  bonds,  the  merry  stream 
Laughs,  dances,  sparkles  in  the  golden  beam  ; 
Then  bounds  along  to  greet  the  frcsh'ning  grass, 
That  waves  a  welcome  aa  the  waters  pass  : 
Close  to  his  mate,  each  minstrel  of  the  grove, 
Fond  nestling,  breathes  his  song  of  ardent  love. 
Creation  smiles,  like  dreams  at  dawn  of  day  ; 
Winter  with  all  his  gloom,  hath  passed  away. 

0  Spring  !  thou  art  a  time  when  tears  should  cease- 
Save  those  cf  joy — an  hour  for  love  and  peace ; 
Yet  comes  a  shade  of  sadness  o'er  my  mind — 

1  gaze  around,  and  think  upon  the  blind  I 
I  think  upon  the  darkness,  and  the  gloom, 
That  hang  o'er  such,  like  shadows  of  the  tomb  ;  i 
No  sky  for  them,  no  verdure  and  no  light. 

No  beauteous  morn,  but  one  long  moonless  night. 
''<Dh  I  dark,  dark,  dark,"  well  might  the  poet  say— 
The  Bard  sublime,  on  whom  this  sorrow  lay  ; 
From  nature's  charms,  earth's  ever  varying  scene, 
Cut  off,  "shut  out,'' by  the  "thick  drop  serene." 
Yet — yet,  for  tliis,  a.%  for  all  earthly  woes, 
A  healing  balm  from  blest  religion  flows  ; 
No  eye  is  dark  in  Ileav'n ;  no  shadow  dim, 
Tliere  shrouds  the  soul :  but,  bright  as  seraphim, 
It  revels  in  immortal  glory's  ray  ; 
And  drinks  the  light  of  everlasting  day. 


•■"v.fllJTOJl*' 


■J!!WP*.)'F»MJW*'»W '  !.'1li* 


i]i„KiJiiiipmj„piuiiim.ji,ipi 


iwummiipfi 


TO   THE   RIVER   TRENT. 


•275 


TO  THE  RIVER  TRENT. 


I. 

Noble  river!  rushing  on, 

Deep  and  broad,  and  briglit  and  free 
Winter's  rage  lialli  eonie  and  gone : 

But  0.0  bonda  he  had  for  thee. 

It. 

Strong,  unfettered,  bold  and  deep, 

Here,  in  majesty,  thy  tide 
Hushes  with  resistless  sweep; 

Pours  along  in  stately  pride. 

ill. 
Blue  thy  breast,  with  billows  bright 

Sparkling  in  the  fervid  ray  , 
Glorious  is  thy  stream  with  light. 

Gilt  with  gold  of  vernal  day. 

IV. 

Green  thy  banks,  with  budding  grovea 
Bordering  the  meadows  fair ; 

Still  thy  shore  the  cedar  loves, 
Shoots  the  tani'rack  high  in  ai?. 


'Hi 


;5i? 


Cedars  white,  and  alders  grey. 
Circling  many  a  lordly  pine  ; 

Giant  oaks  their  forms  display  ; 
Firs,  whose  silv'ry  leaflets  shine. 


m,'i.9v 


l»|i    I fl^ifi'wwim^t 


'W"H'V'f*"-  f 


276 


TO  THE  RIVER   TRENT. 


VI. 

Hangs  the  mighty  maple  o'dr 

Trunks  upturned  and  rocks  around  : 

Hark  I  I  hoar  a  sullen  roar^ 
'Tis  the  rapid's  thundering  sound. 

VII. 

Boil  the  foaminjj  torrents  through 
Rocks,  that  fain  would  check  their  rage 

See  !  the  monarch  stream  anew 
Calm  pursues  his  pilgrimage. 

VIII. 

Calmly,  through  the  forest  glade, 
View  his  peaceful  current  glide ; 

Solemn,  now,  through  deep'ning  shade, 
Dark,  yet  tranquil,  is  his  tide. 

IX. 

Onward,  on  !  the  goal  is  nigh  : 
Glorious  lake  !  thy  form  I  view 

Blending  with  th'  ethereal  sky — 
One  bright  tract  of  boundless  blue. 

X. 

Noble  river !  fare  thee  well ! 

As  thy  current,  strong  and  deep, 
Onward — irresistible — 

May  my  soul  its  progress  keep. 

XI. 

Heav'nward  to  its  peaceful  home, 
In  the  world  where  live  the  blest ; 


ii.'i^VWf^srimmm^iff 


THE  BIRDS  OF  SPRING. 

Past  the  rocks,  the  rapids'  foam, 
Thus  may  speed— there  gladly  rest. 


277 


THE  BIRDS  OF  SPRING. 


Love  to  you,  lovely  birds !  and  your  wild  lay, 

♦Sweet  sung  beneath  th'  approving  smile  of  May. 

<jlad  heralds  of  deliglit !  your  angel  voice 

Thrills  through  ray  lioart,  and  bids  my  soul  rejoice. 

How  exquisite  your  notes  unto  mine  ear, 

liong  stunned  by  howling  storms  of  wiater  drear ! 

I  low  wildly  glad,  amid  th'  unfolding  leaves, 

Ti')OV  tell  a  tOrlo  the  willing  heart  believes  >' 

They  tell  of  bliss,  of  beauty,  and  of  flow'rs". 

Of  paradisal,  green,  ambrosial  bow'rs; 

f)f  odours  breathing  from  the  enamelled  field ; 

' )!"  scents  and  sweets  the  painted  gardens  yield ; 

<  >f  buds  and  blossoms  waving  to  the  breeze ; 

Of  tasselled  wreaths  that  crown  the  verdant  trees  : 

or  golden  days,  when  summer's  light  shall  be 

S]ied,  as  a  glorious  flood,  o'er  land  and  sea  ; 

Of  blushing  morn,  and  gentle  eventide, 

Of  thj  briglit  moon,  bedecked  in  silv'ry  pride  ; 

Of  gorgeous  noon,  night's  maje;ity,  the  deep 

Hour,  when  the  eyes  of  Nature  close  in  sleep. 

And,  oh  !  far  more  than  these,  they  tell  of  love, 

Nesllinjr  within  the  bosom  like  a  dove ! 

Slest  love— 'that  makes  the  jarring  wheels  of  life 

Roll  smoothly  on  ;  and  heals  our  inwird  strife. 

24* 


I 

i  I 


''{i,. 


■  f" ,  - 


■\'r 


•-If 

^i  jl'.i: 

mi 


tal 


278 


ITALIAN  KIGIIT  8CENS. 


Sweet  birds !  oh  !  may  your  hours  in  bliss  bo  passed ; 
Nor  cloud,  nor  storm,  their  sunshine  overcast. 


I 


-'t'l 


ITALIAN  NIGHT  SCENE, 

1. 

The  heavenly,  holy,  and  beauteous  night, 

With  its  solemn  stillness,  its  cala  moonlight ; 

The  fathomless  depth  of  the  sapphire  sky, 

With  beryl  billows  broad  heaving  on  higli ; 

The  starrj'  gems  in  their  twinkling  play  ; 

The  planets  pure,  with  their  steadfast  ray  *, 

Tlie  moon  all  fair  as  a  virgin  bride, 

With  her  si^itcr  stars  in  their  meek  pale  pride  , 

Ocean,  that  seems,  in  his  slumber  deep, 

To  dream  of  heav'n  in  the  bow'r  of  sleep ; 

The  streamlet  that  pauses  upon  its  way. 

And  drinks  deep  love  where  the  moonbeams  stray  ; 

The  ship,  that  drooping  its  wings  of  white, 

Tracks  not  o'er  the  waves  its  lino  of  lii.ht ; 

The  forest  that  bending  above  tb.e  stream. 

Lies  lulled  in  a  soothing  romantic  dream ; 

The  mountains  uplifting  their  peaks  of  blue  ; 

The  crags  all  white  with  silvery  hue  ; 

The  feathering  woods  in  the  moonlight  grey  ; 

The  sloping  hills  whence  the  waters  stray  ; 

The  castled  cliffs  that,  high  o'er  the  dale, 

Keep  watch  o'er  the  sleep  of  theshad'wy  vale  : 

All  tell  'tis  the  soft,  heart-soothing  hour, 

When  the  soul  from  the  skies  drinks  bliss  and  pow'r  ; 


ifigi^piliiiUli   III  II.   gi^a^nmi«P^.MPMiiiUi||^ 


'|iiiiw;,^|fP|tf  ■ 


ITALIAN   NIGHT   SCENE. 


27  i» 


All  tell  'lis  the  hour,  when  the  spirit  sliouUl  bo 
From  eurihly  cares,  ami  cnlhrahneiit.  free. 

II. 
The  beacon's  biuze  from  its  tow'r  is  seen, 
Gilding  the  waves,  and  yon  slioros  of  green  ; 
Wliicli  fringed  l)y  foam  of  the  sparkling  spray, 
Look  lovelier  far  than  in  glare  of  diiy. 
The  cypress  tall,  with  ils  sable  spire, 
Is  gilt  with  glow  of  that  riully  fire. 
And  o"cr  tlie  while  cot  where  lovers  sleep, 
In  solemn  -.tate  doth  i'.s  vigils  keep. 
The  olives  bend  with  nnwonted  weight. 
The  vinos  droop  low  'ncath  their  juicy  freight ; 
The  garrlcn  bow'rs,  in  the  hnsh  of  night, 
Arc  clothed  with  a  calmer,  purer  light, 
Than  the  gok'en  fiood  of  the  noon-tide  hour ; 
And  the  pale  moonbeam,  o'er  fountain  and  flow'r. 
Falls  blended  with  sweet  ambrosial  dew, 
That  softens  the  scone  with  its  misty  hue. 
The  live-files  sparkle  amid  the  leaves, 
Wlier.^  tlie  silk-worm  its  thread  of  silver  weaves  : 
Where  tlie  light  wind,  that  sweeps  o'er  ocean's  breast. 
Scarce  stirs  those  loaves  in  their  gentle  rest : 
The  hum  of  the  city  hath  died  away, 
Nor  whisper  the  waves  in  their  voiceless  play. 
But  whoso  is  that  form  on  yonder  hill, 
That  stalks  like  a  ghost  while  the  world  lies  still— 
The  clank  of  whose  arms  upon  the  ear, 
In  the  solemn  stillness,  sounds  strange  and  drear  ? 
'Tis  the  warder,  that  moves  in  the  moonlight  above, 
Where  the  fortress  frowns  o'er  yon  sheltered  cove. 


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Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


33  WIST  MAIN  STRiET 

WIUTIR.N.Y.  USSO 

(716)  •72-4S03 


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380 


NIGHT   STORM.- 


nr. 
'Tis  pleasant  to  gaze  o'er  tlie  wat'ry  world, 
When  not  a  ripple  its  brca<st  hath  curled  ; 
'Tis  pleasant  to  look  o'er  the  moonlit  fields, 
And  breathe  of  the  balm  the  garden  yields  ; 
'Tis  sweet,  to  behold  the  forest  lie 
Lone  sleeping,  in  silent  majesty ; 
'Tis  pleasant  to  see  the  reposing  ship 
In  the  harbour's  waters  its  white  sails  dip  ; 
'Tis  lovely  to  see  the  moon  cast  down 
Her  silvery  light,  o'er  the  forests  Irrown  ; 
And  'tis  sweet  to  view  the  placid  s?a 
Reflecting  the  skies'  fair  imag'ry. 
Yet  there  be  lovelier  sights  I  ween, 
Than  man's  dull  eye  hath  on  earth  e'er  seen  : 
There  is  beauty,  and  splendour,  that  mortal  eye 
Ne'er  saw  upon,  earth,  in  ocean,  nor  sky  : 
Revealings  of  such  to  the  soul  are  given, 
That  walks  with  God,  with  a  heart  in  Heaven. 

mQKT  STORM. 

ON  THE  SOUTH  COAST  OF  ITALY. 


I. 


The  moon  rode  high,  the  heav'ns  were  fair. 
There  stirred  no  sound  through  the  voiceless  air ; 
There  breathed  no  wind  thro'  the  sheltered  grove, 
Save  a  breeze  as  soft  as  the  sigh  of  love — 


I  ^Hi|i  n.u«i|i  im,,<i'. I     mmw 


NIGHT   STORM. 


281 


Tliat  stole  o'er  the  sleep  of  the  elms  vine-curled, 
liike  music  that  comes  from  the  sj)irit  world. 
The  shores  shelved  down  to  the  waters  wide, 
And  gazed  at  their  jjreen  in  the  wavcless  tide  : 
The  flov.-'rs  that  close  bordered  the  blue  serene. 
In  that  mai^fic  mirror  were  lovelier  seen. 
For  the  waters  were  pure,  and  as  crystal  clear; 
And  each  fairy  form  did  therein  ap{)ear 
Like  that  of  Narcissus,  in  the  deep  well : 
When  he  died  of  love,  as  old  fables  tell, 
Tall  cliiTs  arose  in  majestic  state. 
With  far  blue  hills  to  the  heav'ns  elate ; 
And  many  a  wild  sequestered  cove 
Sliot  far  in  the  land,  with  woods  above 
Broad  waving ;  and  rocks  and  craggy  steeps, 
That,  like  giants,  o'erlooked  the  placid  deeps. 
The  Pine  lowered  high  with  its  column  vast, 
And  its  sombre  shade  o'er  the  waters  cast ; 
The  proud  Oak  stood  in  imperial  might ', 
Tiie  weeping  Ash  waved  its  branches  slight : 
The  Cypress  black,  and  the  Service  white, 
Each  lent  a  charm  to  adorn  the  niglit. 
And  many  a  bcatiteous  garden  slope, 
Whose  blossoms  bloomed  rich  with  sweet  summer's  hope- 
Intermingled  with  flow'rs  of  varying  lines, 
That  balm  on  the  breath  of  night  did  effuse — 
Were  seen  thro'  each  op'ning  the  rocks  between. 
With  meadows  and  vales  of  the  softest  green. 
Those  rocks  were  all  wreathed  with  Eglantine, 
With  the  wilding  Rose  did  Clematis  twine ; 


282  NIGHT   STOKM. 

The  Elms  were  enclasped  by  the  curling  Vine. 
That  in  broad  festoons  ,liigh  overhead, 
A  gentle  gloom  o'er  the  verdure  shed  ; 
Th'  Acacia  unfolded  its  leaflets  green, 
In  the  still  moonshine  its  form  was  seen— 
So  light,  so  graceful — tlie  shade  it  threw 
f^carce  darkened  the  grass  all  wet  with  dew. 
With  golden  clusters  the  Cytisus  stood. 
In  the  waveless  waters  its  ima"e  viewed  : 
TJie  Lilac  pale  with  Syringa  vied — 
In  sisterly  sweetness,  side  by  side, 
Intermingling  blooms  by  the  moonbeam  dyed. 
As  pure  as  snow  in  their  stainless  pride. 
All  around  in  vernal  beauty  attired 
With  love  and  sweet  hope  the  heart  inspired : 
For  Spring'had  arriv'd,  and  o'er  the  earth 
►Strewed  her  buds  and  blossoms  of  fairest  birth  ; 
And  now  was  just  yielding  to  Summer's  sway, 
And  rosy  smiled,  ere  she  sped  away. 
The  birds  close  crouched  'neath  the  leafy  boughs, 
Or  waked  but  to  plight  fond,  faithful  vows  ; 
The  Nightingale  breathed  its  love-lorn  strain  : 
The  Ring-dove  at  times  was  heard  to  complain. 
As  she  woke  from  the  dreams  of  her  dewy  rest. 
And  took  a  short  flight  from  her  peaceful  nest. 
For  the  hour  was  so  calm,  so  fair,  and  so  bright, 
To  give  all  to  sleep  were  to  wrong  the  night. 

n. 

Taranto's  broad,  and  beauteous  bay, 
All  mirror-like  in  its  stillness  ]ay, 


NIGHT   STORM. 


2S:j 


O'ercanopiecl  by  tlio  starry  sky, 

That  in  gorgeous  glory  outspread  on  liigli; 

And  each  star,  that  bodockod  that  pavilion  proud, 

Intensely  blazed,  undinimed  by  a  cloud  ; 

The  azure  dome  did  its  roof  unfold, 

With  resplendent  hangings  of  blue  and  gold  : 

That  blue  was  of  pure  paradisal  tint ; 

That  gold,  of  lieav'n's  own  drosslcss  mint : 

And  each  was  softened  by  that  blest  clime, 

And  all  was  sweet,  yet  no  less  suliJIme. 

All — all  was  beauty, and  love, and  bliss: 

Tlio  earth  met  the  heav'ns  with  ambrosial  kiss — 

And  [he  heav'ns  breathed  love  o'er  earth's  fragrant  breast  ; 

And  both  were  beauteous,  and  both  were  blest. 

iir. 
The  solemn  voice  of  the  midnight  hour 
Was  heard  from  Taranto's  tallost  tow'r ; 
And  with  startling  sound,  on  the  list'ning  ear, 
Fell  its  warning  notes  vibrating  near. 
Tho'  unheeded,  too  oft,  Time  speeds  by  day, 
On  feathery  foot,  away,  away — 
Yet  with  thrilling  voice,  and  im|)ressive  tone, 
He  speaks  t  .  me  heart  at  midnight  lone. 
Ere  an  hoar  had  sped  its  noiseless  flight, 
A  change  had  come  o'er  the  beauteous  night; 
Her  brow  grew  dark,  and  a  sable  dress 
Of  gloom  hung  over  her  loveliness. 
The  stars  grew  pale,  and  tlie  moon  grew  dim ; 
The  sullen  skies  waxed  lurid  and  grim  ; 


iJ84 


NIGHT  STORM. 


The  face  of  the  heavens  bhovvcd  ghastly  anc!  drear, 
Like  the  visajje  of  Death  when  he  frowns  full  near : 
A  fearful  sound  o'er  the  forests  passed, 
Tho'  stirred  not  a  breath  of  th'  inipendinn;  blast ; 
From  the  distant  mountain  a  dread  voice  came — 
A  tone  of  terror  that  hath  no  name  : 
The  shuddering  waves  uprose  from  their  bed, 
As  roused  by  the  call  of  the  mighty  dead, 
Over  whose  bones,  for  many  an  age, 
Dark  Ocean  hath  rolled  in  his  rtithless  rage. 
Then  came  the  Stonn,  in  its  fury's  might, 
And  stamped  with  horror  the  brow  of  Night : 
It  swept  o'er  the  land,  and  it  ploughed  the  sea — 
And  Ocean  arose  in  stern  majesty ; 
And  asked  with  awful,  earth-shaking  tone, 
Why  the  storm  invaded  his  billowy  throne. 
The  storm  heeded  not ;  but,  with  tenfold  force, 
Impelled  the  waves  in  their  headlong  course ; 
Till  phrensiedand  mad,  'neath  its  iron  scourge, 
Each  doth  on  other  infuriate  urge  ; 
In  passion  fierce  to  the  hcav'ns  arise, 
As  though  they  laughed  to  scorn  the  skies ; 
Then  along  they  rush  with  deaf'ning  roar, 
And  lash  the  rocks  and  invade  the  shore  : 
The  mountains  re-echo  with  voices  vast ; 
While  the  storm  speeds  on,  blast  upon  blast — 
Blast  Mpon  blast,  and  surge  upon  surge — 
Sweeping  afar  to  the  broad  earth's  verge. 
The  pride  of  the  forest  is  rent  and  shattered, 
Hugo  trunks  upturned,  and  their  branches  scattered ; 


'""^WWPiPWHiBIWf*" 


NIGHT  STORM. 


285 


The  Pine  lies  prone ;  the  imperial  Oak 
Lies  shivered  as  rent  by  lightning's  stroke; 
The  tall  tow'rs  shudder  and  quake  and  reel, 
While  their  bells  ring  out  a  di.inial  peal; 
Rocks  topple  down  from  their  headlong  height. 
And  with  new  liorrors  alarm  the  night. 
With  their  consort  vines  the  elms  are  upcast,  ; 

And  whirled  like  straws  by  the  demon  blast ; 
The  gardens  all  stripped  of  their  loveliness, 
While  fiend-like  forwards  the  wild  gusts  press. 
Madly,  madly,  along,  away, — 
No  limit,  no  pause,  no  stop,  no  stay—  ^ 

Rush  the  roaring  waves  in  plirensy  blind, 
Lashed,  goaded  and  scourged  by  th'  infuriate  wind 
Loud  speaks  the  thunder  o'er  land  and  sea, 
Like  the  echoed  voice  of  eternity; 
Tiie  lightning  flashes  upon  the  sight 
Its  tremendous  sword  of  matchless  might. 
Earth  frowns  at  th'  heavens,  and  th'  heavens  with  a  frown 
Of  deeper  darkness  look  grimly  down; 
And  each  is  so  black,  the  beholders  gaze 
Blindly  at  both,  till  the  lightnings  blaze- 
Then  view  all  around  such  a  fearful  sight, 
They  close  their  eyes  'gainst  that  piercing  liglit. 

IV. 

No     slept  that  night— save  the  shrouded  dead, 
Who  lay  unmoved  in  their  earthy  bed : 
None  slept  that  night ;  and  many  a  grave 
Was  found  beneath  the  billowy  wave. 
And  when  morning  came,  the  coast  was  all  strewed 

25 


HI 


ifmt  >  tiumni.yii  ■.•■ui'ii|i!ip*^>ii.i{ii 


28« 


M0RRI5G. 


With  corses,  and  wrecks ;  and  fragments  rude 
Of  many  a  gallant  ship,  whose  pride 
Full  Icng  had  braved  the  tempest  and  tide  : 
And  for  years  was  remembered  that  awful  night, 
That  began  so  lovely,  so  calm  and  so  bright. 


MOKNING  ON  THE  COAST  OF  CARAMANIA. 


IIo !  what  a  lovely  scene ! — the  blue  waves  break 

Alcn^'  the  windirg  shore,  where  Sj-ring's  young  flcwrcts  wale  ; 

How  verdantly,  above  the  azr.re  tide, 

Yon  sylvan  shore  c'crliaiirs  the  waters  wide  ! 

While  birds  of  dazzling  jilrmngc,  'mcng  the  trees, 

I'our  their  sweet  song^s  upon  the  mcinirg breeze. 

How  soft  the  swell  of  incense-breathing  ocean. 

Where  heave  the  .white-winged  barks,  with  life  like  motion  ! 

While  busy  beats  with  glitl'ring  streamers  gay, 

And  crews  of  many-color.rcd  garb,  hold  on  their  way  ; 

Sporting  like  sea-birds  mid  the  sparkling  spray. 

Turbans  and  caftans,  yellow,  red,  and  green, 

Intensely  bright  beneath  tiio  sun  are  seen ; 

►So  warm,  so  rich,  so  radiant  to  the  eye, 

As  tho'  the  rainbow  shed  those  colours  from  on  high. 

See,  with  what  graceful  curve  yon  shiv'ring  sail 

Sweeps  round,  and  broadens  to  the  fresh'ning  gale. 

The  tall  polacca,  with  its  snow-white  wings, 

Like  a  proud  swan  with  airy  motion  springs ; 

And  rules  the  waters  with  so  gentle  sway, 

The  waves  all  smile,  and  on  their  breast  gladly  her  form  convey. 

In  terrac'd  tigrp,  rank  upon  rank  above,  i 


•■li.UI  ,11  IIIVWWN 


■VAI..i.i>>(«l 


TO  TIIS   SUN. 


287 


:U, 


Hoiisos  fliiUroofed  o'crhang  yon  tiiftcd  grove; 
Where  Mosques  their  slemlor  minar^;t3  display, 
Willi  domes  that  gliUer  in  the  morning  ray. 
The  Lycian  hills  are  gilt  with  gold  of  day- 
All  gloriously  the  skies  unfold  their  blue, 
And  paradisal  plain,  of  hcav'nlicst  hue ; 
111  wavy  clouds  the  curling  mi.sts  ascend, 
The  silvery  streamlets  from  the  mountains  tend : 
Willie,  from  tlie  brow  of  yon  o'crhanging  height, 
Tiie  foamy  torrent  falls  in  masses  white, 
1  low  fresh  the  hour !  'tis  as  the  dawn  of  Heav'n  ! 
Surely  its  balm  was  as  a  foretaste  giv'n, 
OI'  that  bright,  beauteous,  everlasting  morn, 
Tliat  dawns  up'>n  the  soul  to  nobler  life  new-born. 


TO  THE  SUN. 


GnEAT  Sun  !  thou'rt  still  to  mo  a  glorious  sight, 

At  morn,  at  noon,  at  close  of  cheerfid  day  : 
Thou  bringest  beauty,  loveliness,  and  light. 

To  Earth  ;  that  darkly  droops  when  thou'rt  away. 
'Tis  as  the  dawn  of  Ileav'n,  to  view  thee  rise  ; 

And  o'er  tlie  mountains,  and  blue  ocean  vast— 
That  lifts  its  head  to  greet  thee  in  the  skies — 

Thy  burning  flood  of  gold  to  see  thee  cast. 
Oh  !  when  I  steep  me  in  thy  rays  divine, 

At  blush  of  morn,  I  feel  my  spirit  soar 
To  Him  who  bade  thee  thus  supremely  shine  t 

E'en  to  His  throne,  and  grateful  there  adore. 


288 


TO  TIME.     SOLITUDE. 


Oh  !  tliat  thoso  feelings  would  forever  last, 
To  cheer  this  heart  till  life'^  brief  hour  be  past ! 

TO  TIME. 

Time's  a  possession  that  doth  quickly  flee ; 
With  wings  of  stronger,  more  impetuous  sway, 
Than  th'  eagle's,  soaring  to  the  sun  away. 

The  present  moments  giv'n  to  thee,  and  me  : 

All  beyond  thai  no  mortal  eye  can  see. 

Down  drooping  to  the  earth,  our  forms  decay, 

Daily  and  hourly  ;  and  futurity 
Seems  ready  to  unveil  its  untried  world  j ' 
Death  rides  along,  with  sable  flag  unfurled — 
Myriads  of  mortals  having  made  his  prey, 

Still  claims  an  unccntostcd  victory  : 

Willie,  o'er  the  brink  of  dread  Eternity, 

Unthinking  Man  dreams  on,  and  on,  and  on. 

Oh  !  why  will  he  not  wake,  ere  life's  last  sun  hath  shone  '? 

SOLITUDE. 


Deep  Solitude,  they  say,  is  hard  to  bear. 
I've  found  it  so.  in  Winter ;  when  the  day- 
Was  clouded  with  dun  darkness,  and  the  wind 

Howled,  like  the  very  genius  of  despair ; 
When  friends  and  relatives  were  far  away — 
Which  ties  so  closely  round  this  heart  are  twined 

Then  I've  felt  lonely.    But  when  dusky  Night 
Drew  her  dark  veil  above  the  sleeping  earth  ; 


".'^■P!  W''.W' 


TO  HOAIER.      TO   VIRGlt. 


i^9 


When  cliecrful  blazed  the  fire,  and  gladsome  light 
Shone  thro'  the  room  ;  while  gaily  ticked  the  clock, 
And  chirped  the  crickets  round — a  mirthful  flock : 

I  felt  not  of  society  the  dearth. 
The  dead  were  near  me  too — a  pleasant  thought ! 
Good  books  and   wise,  I  mean ;  that  ne'er  too  dear  were 


bought. 


TO  HOMER. 


IIojfEn  !  tlion  kin;^  of  poets  I  (not  the  prince  ;) 
Thou  mighty  monarch  of  tiio  living  lyre — 
Lord  of  undying  verse,  immortal  tire  ! 

Thiit  tiiis  tliou  art,  three  thousand  years  evince. 

Nor  Older  art  thou,  in  men's  minds,  than  when 
Thy  verso  first  charmed  th'  enthusiastic  race ; 
Who  held  in  arts,  and  arms,  the  proudest  place. 

I  ope  thy  wondrous  work,  and  read  again 
What  my  youth  drank  in  with  delighted  ear  : 

Still  fresh,  and  new,  and  glorious  is  the  strain  ; 
Unchanged  by  time  its  beauties  all  appear. 

Mothinks  thou  dost  surpass  the  tuneful  train, 
l^'cn  as  Pel  ides  did  the  warrior-throng : 
As  matchless  ho  in  deeds,  so  thou  in  song. 

TO  VIRGIL. 


Shepherd  of  IMantua  !  I  may  not  blame 
Thy  polished  style,  so  elegantly  chaste ; 

25*      " 


■^ 


npfli"""p^r^»" 


«UW'  '■■".if!W""W(|F«WI" 


.#'^ 


390 


TO  DANTE. 


Thy  simple  majesty,  with  lieaiity  graced : 
TIjoh,  too,  Imst  won  a  wcll-tloserved  fame. 
i  read  thee  wlien  a  boy ;  and  still  the  same 

Tlioii  sccincsl  to  my  soul,  mine  eye,  mine  car ; 
Correct,  pure,  equal — but  alas  !  loo  tame, 

For  epic  lli;,'lit,  thy  spirit  doth  appear. 
Yet  luist  thou  genius — tire  ;  art  skilled  to  wield 
Thy  we;i|)ons  well — but  in  another  field  ; 

Witness  thy  Ceoryics  :  as  a  stream  of  clear 
And  living  waters,  rolls  their  verse  along. 

Sweet  Bard  !  ne'er  may  the  laurel  leaf  bt  sere, 
That  crowns  thee  Master  of  dida.ctic  song. 


TO  DANTE. 


/^ 


Satuunixe  Dante !  gloomy,  stern,  austere : 

Dusky  as  Erebus,  a  blackness  fell 

O'er  all  thy  page,  dopainting  lurid  hell- 
Its  mocking  fiends,  and  sounds  and  sights  of  fear. 
Albeit  I  praise  not  thy  contorted  style. 

Thy  solemn  grandeur  doth  my  spirit  love; 

Thy  dark  sublimity  my  soul  approve. 
Yet  seems  there  somewhat  wanting,  all  the  while 

I  pore  upon  thy  page ;  a  lofty  sense 

Of  innate  pow'r — the  proud  magnificence 
Of  epic  daring — that,  in  glorious  song, 
Sweeps,  as  a  mighty  flood,  the  bard  along 

On  passion's  swelling  waves : — the  eloquence 
Poured  from,  the  soul  by  feeling  deep,  and  high,  and  strong. 


.Si: 


HBa*ui.>|>«  >m^,tfn)>*'v  wmwn 


TO  TASSO.      TO   MiLTON. 


291 


TO  TASSO. 


Baud  of  t>5urrenlo !  thou  dost  well  deserve 

The  Poet's  name.    I  do  not  deem  tliecy?rs/— 
Nor  if  the  first :  from  this  I  may  not  swerve. 

Vet  art  thou  greaf  :  f'l  /  Uoileau's  self  should  Imrdt. 

Thou  hadst  the  Poet's  sold,  and  noble  thirst 
For  deathless  fame  :  but  not  the  wondrous  spell, 
WhodO  sorcery  dcop  hearts  recognise  full  well ', 

That  far  above  the  tleotinff  thin^fs  of  time 

Uplifts  the  spirit,  in  i(s  trance  siiblime. 
Thy  picluretj  brev.thc  the  form  of  wild  romance^ 
And  chivalry's  enthusiastic  trance  ; 

Ennoblin^r  both  the  reader  and  the  rhyme. 
Romance,  too,  chequered  thine  eventful  life  : 
Would  thou  hadst  Iiad  thv  Lconore  to  wife  t 


TO  MILTON. 


ilii/i'ox !  I  foel  thy  worth  :  yet  \vo\\  I  trow. 

Thou  art  not  loved  as  other  sons  of  son^. 

Magnificent  thou  art — sublimely  strong  ; 
And  gnispest  heav'n,and  earth,  and  hell ;  as  tho'' 

Thou  wert  a  seraph,  and  not  fleshly  wight. 

And,  trust  m?,  I  have  felt  intense  delight — 
While  that  tlje  visions  rose  upon  my  view, 

By  thee  first  brought  before  our  mortal  sight. 
Yet  must  I  speak  the  truth  :  and  this  is  true— 

Thau  luckest  somewhat  of  Homeric  fire  ; 


i93 


TO  8IIAKSPEARE.      TO  BYRO!?. 


The  lightning-like  activity  of  soul, 

Tliat  shoots  tliro'  all ;  and  stirs  and  moves  the  whole : 

Th'  cloctric  energy,  that  must  inspire 
Allthoso,  who  fain  would  reach  high  Poetry's  greit  goal 

TO  SIIAKSPEARE. 


vSoM  of  the  wayward  l\[iiso !  whose  visions  wild 

liavenjorc  of  lloav'n,  than  anght  wo  find  on  Earth  ; 

Sure  thine  were  dreams  that  none  of  mortal  birth 
HVr  viowoil  b.^fcuo,  or  fin-.y'seye'j-^j:ille-l. 
tStranfrc  sounds  of  bcantv  echoed  from  each  strinj; 

(Like  angol's  voices.)  of  thine  harp  of  gold  : 
Tlright  foviiii  of  lovcline;".s,  upon  the  wing, 
(.'imo  as  from  par.idiio,  as  thou  did  it  sing  : 

AndNiture  did  li^r  fairest  scen?3  unfold. 
Of  the  dj:>p  liu.nan  \\ixvt,  instinctive  lorj 

Was  t'aiue ;  an  I  hvhl  t'u  i  tried  the  E/ic  fijlJ, 
.     Not  to  great  flo.nor's  s.df  thy  flime  would  yield  : 
Two  Homers  had  there  been :  as  his  of  yore, 
Tiiine  was  the  spell  of  pow'r,  Nature's  exhaustlcss  s'.jre. 

TO  BYRON. 


13/RON  !  whit  hadst  thou  bjen,  if  that  t'.iy  33ul — 

Exalted  and  ennobled  by  the  fire, 

That  comes  from  Ileav'n,  and  doth  to  Heav'n  aspire— 
Sjirain;^  msre  eirthly  pis^iio  I's  mil  control, 

Hid  strunjj  in  Virtue's  cause  thv  deep-toned  Ivre  t 
Mighty  of  spirit,  master  of  a  pow'r 


TO   CUATTERTON. 


293 


That  w.ikeJ  in  all  tli3  Poot's  wild  desire ; 
How  in  void  vanity  life's  transient  hour, 
And  nature's  gifts  were  squandered  !  As  a  flood, 

Poured  fro:n  the  hills  on  winter's  darkest  day, 

Sweeping  the  herds  and  folded  flocks  away— 
Thus,  in  a  torrent,  o'er  the  wise  and  good 

Swept  down  thy  verse.     That  flood  is  past  for  aye : 
And  thou,  alas  !  (w'late'er  beyond  the  tomb)— 
Dying,  beiucathe.lst  Man  bat  death,  despair,  and  gloonft. 


K.' 


TO  CIIATTERTON. 


R.vsii  boy !  thine  act  insane,  and  early  grave, 
Do;nand  our  pitying  tears  and  heart-folt  grief : 
Tiiino  was  a  maurnf.il  lot,  and  dark,  tho'  brief. 

Poor  torn-up  flow'r,  tossed  rudely  on  life's  wave  ! 

Young— young,  yet  dead  !  Genius  !  is  this  thy  dow'r  ? 
How  oft  dost  thou  of  hearts  tho  hopes  deceive, 
Tiie  shroud  of  cherished  expectations  weave  I 

O  bland  betrayer !  with  wh  it  wizard  pow'r, 

In  sunbea-ns  clad,  thou  co ;?  :>3t  at  the  hour, 

When  life's  glad  promise  most  oar  hearts  believe  r 

Yet— should  we  blame  thee?  No  !  thou  art  a  gift, 
Which  rightly  used— with  holy  love  combined— 
To  work  great  good  for  mortals,  was  designed  : 

Tliou  untj  hi'j'iostllMv'n  the  soul  sublime  dost  lift. 


!.    -ft 


294 


TO  DR.    JOHNSON.      TRANSf;ENDENTAI.lSM. 


TO  DR.  SAMUEL  JOHNSON. 

MoNAUcji  of  niiiid!  lliou  intellectiiiil  sajje ! 

Thou  riicnd  to  wisdom,  virtiio,  :iiid  to  mail  ! 
Wi'll  pleased  r  |>f)iidc!ro'er  tliy  valiiitd  pnge  ; 

'I'liy  storliii^  scM)s(>  with  all  my  spirit  scan. 
Slid,  fiom  tliy  tiironi'  of  tlioiij^lil,  tlioii  didst  d:sj)ense 
TrcasiiroH  of  wisdom,  oracles  of  sense  ; 

Willi  Iriilli  severe  cliaslise  an  erriiii4'  age  ; 

And  emptiii',\s»  of  folly  still  assiiao[0. 
How  poor,  contrasted  wlili  a  soul  like  tliino, 
Tlie  silken  slave  wdio  bowed  at  fashion's  slM-inc> — 

Vain  Clieslerrield — the  liauhle  of  an  Iiour  ! 
Tril'ier  npon  tlic  brink  of  the  dark  wave, 

VVlioso  depth  all  morliil  things  dolh  soon  devour  : 
Still  worshipping  the  World  e'en  o'er  theyav/ning  <fr;ivi'  ! 

ON  TRANSCENDENTALISM. 


On  !  Transcendentalism,  in  verso  or  prose, 

(That  word's  as  b;id  as  'iriiiiolulirnni,^) 
Is  what  I  loathe,  abhor,  di'test,  des|!ise  : 

Vor  transcendental  writings,  all  and  ^.olne, 
ISFy  deletestation  T  cannot  disguise, 
^•Innnia  aiiitimi"'  each,  and  all  of  those, 
For  whom  tr.ie  nature  never  could  sufllce  ; 

Who,  seeking  most  original  to  bo, 

O'erlook  the  charm  of  truth — simplicity. 
This  faidt  hatli  niarreil  full  many  a  one  ;  whoso  strainii 

Might  live  IV  thousand  years,  wcr't  but  for  this  ; 


TERZA    UIMA.      linXAMETKU. 


•2\)ri 


For  wliiii  tlioy  sock  to  fin!  with  so  tnncli  pains, 
For.sakin;^  the  solo  way,  thoy'rc  sure  to  miss. 
Nona  like  obscurity,  and  air-spun  fancies  ; 
This  Transcoiulentahsui  no  heart  entrances. 

ON  Tr:UZA  UIMA,  AND  SONNETS. 


()  Ti:u/A  RrM.v  !  pii/,/,!e  to  tl)o  I'oct, 

IJy  DaiiiO  iniu'h  lii'lovcl  I)iit  luil  by  mo; 

The  IJanl  IVoiii  ail  sucli  fctti-rs  Hhoiikl  bo  free : 
Liberty's  sweet,  iuid  I  .s'lall  ne'er  forego  it. 

Tiic  t-nMinet,  too,  '.s  ve.valioiis ;  intortwining; 

With  soin-^  small  sons  (,  ofi  much  Petrarchan  whinin^r. 

Stranjjo  that ::.  Danl  slioiik!  ever  think  of  shininjr 
(,'on;lomnc(l  to  coi  p  his  ihouyhts  in  fourteen  linos  ; 
( )i't,  when  to  \\rllc  a  bomiet  sh':.'  designs, 

Viy  wiinlon  Muse  c.\cecd.i  that  scanty  measure  ; 

That  is,  when  shc'.s  entirely  at  her  leisure, 

Ar.d  gives  her  wing  free  sco|)C  with  purest  pleasure  : 
I  ligh  over  earth,  she  sjwcds  hor  flight  afar, 
( 'hainless  as  winJ.s  that  sweep  the  mountain  are. 


ON  THE  HEADING  OF  HEXAMETER  VERSE. 


I  no  not  greatly  love  Hccametor ; 

A3  by  tliO  school-boy  read,  it  is  sad  stuff: 
Aye  !  and  in  Collygrs — unless  I  err — 

One  still  should  cry  |/Vt/n  satis\  now  enough  ! 


I*.'' 


296  ON  nULOLCGY. 

Recite  it  as  'lis  scanned,  and  then  you'll  see 

It  is  true  verse :  noi  so,  read  otherwise — 

'Tis  poetry  in  a  burlesque  disguise. 
Had  I  a  hundred  pupils,  they  should  be 

Taught  to  rend  metre,  (whether  Greek  or  Latin.) 
With  deference  .ue  to  time,  and  quantity, 
And  syllables,  as  they  are  short  or  long  : 
Trust  me  all  other  modes  are  surely  wrong. 

Oh !  it  is  horrible,  to  hear  a  brat,  in 
The  things  called  acadcmkah,  spout  song 
As  'twere  pure  prose !  His  teachers  sure  were  blind ; 

Or  born,  at  Icas^t,  under  a  perverse  planet. 
Why  learned  he jnosody,  I  ne'er  could  find : 

If  verse  ne'er  taught  to  read — what  use  to  scan  it  ? 


ON  PHILOLOGY. 


Philology's  a  noble  thing,  no  doubt ; 
Tho'  useless  oft.  like  many  another  'ology  : 
(The  which  to  prove  Til  mention  but  astrology.) 

In  fact,  I'd  rather  be  an  eel,  or  trout — 
Or  live  out  all  my  days  within  a  hollow  tree ; 

Than  to  be  deluged,  from  a  leaden  spout, 

Wither.dless  histories  of  every  word 
We  speak :  which  plan  if  any  choose  to  follow,  he 

May,  for  my  part ;  with  some  small  blame  incurred. 

Give  me  the  knowledge — never  bought  too  dear — 
Which  makes  us  better,  wiser,  abler  men  : 
But  long  discussions,  as  to  where  and  ichen 


"^(r 


TO   ins   FRIEXD. 


297 


»Siich  and  sucli  tongues  were  spoken —  I  can't  boar. 

I  would  not  give  an  onion's  cast-oil'  tunic, 

For  all  the  grubbod-up  roots  of  Erso,  Phcnician,  Runic. 

TO  A  FRIEND  PIIILOLOGIC ALLY  DEVOTED. 

(the  editor  of  these  ■WOllKS.) 


Fkicni)  !  if  I've  wronged  tlice,  or  have  been  to  blame, 

Descanting  thus  upon  tliy  lovo  Pliilology ; 
All  bad  intention  do  I  here  disclaim  : 
"  Plato's  my  friend  ;  but  Truth" — you  hnow  the  rest ; 
I  cannot  swerve  from  her  supreme  behest. 

Oh  !  would  thou  liad.st  but  cottoned  to  Concholopv  I 
TJhU^s  useful — Dcmonology's  the  same  : 

I  cannot  give  my  praises  to  Psycliology — 
To  recommend  it  I  am  not  inclined  ; 
It  seems,  at  best,  but  groping  of  the  blind. 
What !  was  the  world  of  Facts  too  cold,  or  tame, 

That  thou  didst  leiivc  it  for  tlte  world  of  \Vord>.? 

Would  I  had  "  M'ing  pinions,  like  a  ijird's  ; 
Or  speed  of  carriages  upon  a  rail-road  ! 

Then  from  the  Wordy  World  adir  I'd  floe, 

And  make  my  home  in  the  great  World  of  Fact ; 
All  duties  pay,  which  I,  the'  weak  and  frail,  owed ; 

I'd  wisely  think,  and  not  ignobly  act. 
Words  arc  most  useful  ,  as  expressing  thought ; 
But,  in  all  else,  I  hold  them  still  at  nought. 


>-^  h 


iP 


ii4 


•s 


90 


293 


FRIEND.iilllP  OF  THE   WORLD.      SOARI^•GS  ALOrX. 


THE  FRIENDSHIP  OF  THE  WORLD. 

Oh  !  what  a  changeful  world  is  this  wo  dwell  in  ! 

New  sights,  new  scenes,  new  fashions,  and  new  faces. 

How  oft  a  late-found  friend  the  old  displaces, 
How  mutable  are  some,  there  is  no  telling. 
Some  treat  a  friend  e'en  as  a  tlircad-bare  ccat— > 

A'Mo  it's  cast,  vvl;cn  it  has  lost  its  nap : 

So  when  one  meets  affliction,  or  mishap, 
Thus  is  ho  loft  alono,  to  sink  or  float. 
The  dog  is  faiihfal :  feed  him  once,  or  twice — 

He'll  owe  yen  tlicn  a  debt  of  gratitude, 

Not  to  be  paid  thro'  life.    Eut  Man's  more  shrewd  ; 
Serve  him — and  he'll  forget  it  in  a  trice. 

Yet  some  I've  known,  and  may  meet  many  more  ; 

That  treasure  up  hind  deeds  in  their  hearts'  inmost  core. 

SOARINGS  ALOFT. 


Ascend,  ray  Eor.l !  aloft,  in  searings  high  : 
This  world  hath  had  from  thee  sufficient  share 
Of  thoughtful  heed — considerative  care. 

Spread  thy  strong  wing,  and  mount  above  the  sky  ; 

Where  the  bright  stars  their  paths  of  glory  trace : 

\Vhere  wander  thro'  illimitable  space 
Ten  thousand  suns,  and  weave  their  nystic  dance. 
Come  cleave  with  me  the  crystalline  expanse  ; 

The  deep  abyss,  that  never  line  hath  sounded — 

The  mighty  ocean,  that  no  ^hore  hath  bounded  : 
And  ineasvire  vast  creation  with  thy  glance. 


JKWi^iOfpi  i  <pi    li^iii.iv.. 


ON  OLD  AGE.      TO  1EEI.AND. 


999 


Jce, 


Wliat  wonders  burst  on  the  delighted  view- 
Infinity  of  marvels,  ever  new  ! 
Bless  God  for  all  Ills  works — render  Him  homage  due. 

ON  OLD  AGE. 


Old  Ago,  with  stealthy  foot  creeps  slowly  on. 
Youth  lightly  canters  by,  on  mettled  steed  ; 
Strong  Manhood  stalks  with  circumspective  liecd, 

liOoking  before — behind — yet  soon  is  gone ; 

Then  wrinkled  Eld  comes  limping  with  his  crutch, 
Bidding  our  earthly  hopes  flee  far  away, 
And  droop?j  down  to  the  dust  in  quick  decay  : 

Yet  let  not  this  afllict  us  overmuch. 

As  Youth  to  Tiifancy  doth  still  succeed  ; 

Manliood  to  Youth,  and  then  in  turn  gives  place 
To  hoary  Age  advancing  with  sure  pace : 

So  doth  immortal  Life  that  supersede. 

So  man  not  dies  :  but,  'j'ond  the  dreary  touib, 
A  nobler  lot  is  his — a  j^outh  of  endless  bloom. 

TO  IRELAND, 


1. 

If.rne  !  land  of  beauty,  soui,  and  song ! 

Borne  over  ocean ;  back  I  look  to  thee. 
Thy  far  blue  mountains,  wl  >^re  I  wandered  long, 

Lift  as  u  cloud  their  heads  above  the  sea. 

Wild  as  the  wind  that  sweeps  those  summits  free, 
Swell  o'er  my  soul  fond  mem'ries  of  the  past ; 


300 


TO  IRELAND. 


Scenes  of  my  childhood,  that  depictured  bo 
Witliin  thl8  heart,  in  colours  that  shall  last. 
Once  more,  farewell !  hark !  how  the  hollow  sounding  bin  u 

u. 

Blends  loudly  with  the  thunder  of  the  deep, 
That  booms  around  our  bark,  with  sullen  roar  ; 

On,  \vith  the  arrow's  flight,  our  course  wo  keep  : 
One  look,  one  longing  look,  to  that  loved  shore — 
'Tis  gone,  and  meets  the  struggling  siglit  no  more  ! 

Now  nought  but  ocean,  and  the  sky,  is  seen ; 
Flashes  the  surf  around  th'  impetuous  prore  : 

Once  more,  farewell !  Hope  !  let  thy  star  serene, 

Bright,  o'er  the  bill'wy  deep,  difluse  its  s])arkling  sheon, 

m. 

On,  to  that  land  beyond  the  western  tide, 

Where  strangers  find  a  home,  and  oft  a  grave  ; 
Bright  be  thy  beam  above  the  waters  wide. 

Hope  !  thy  soft  ray,  to  cheer  our  course  we  crave  ; 

The  sad  sojourner  on  th'Atlautic  wave 
Much  needs  thy  balmy  smile,  to  glad  his  heart : 

Oil !  shall  that  heavy  heart  be  Sorrow's  sla\e  ? 
Arise,  my  Soul !  not  desolate  tliou  art : 
Friends,  country,  gone — thy  heav'nly  Friend  will  ne'er  dopai 

IV. 

Thou  wilderness  of  waters  !  as  I  gaze 

Above  thy  bosom  with  an  anxious  eye, 
Where  the  blue  tract  of  ocean,  thro'  the  haze 

Of  eve,  seems  blending  with  the  sapphire  sky — 


n>  IRfiLARD. 


301 


Metliinks  I  view  the  land  from  which  I  fly 
Spread,  like  elysium,  round,  itd  meadows  fair ; 

Green  fields  and  groves,  and  mountains  stern  and  high ; 
Valleys  of  verdure ;  lakes  that  sparkle  there, 
With  streamlets  from  those  hills  that  shoot  aloft  in  air. 

V. 

But  chief  thy  daughters— with  their  sunny  smile, 

Their  souls  all  softness,  and  their  hearts  all  love ; 
Their  ever-varying  glance,  and  artless  wile. 

The  ^cii'rous  passions  that  their  minds  still  move ; 

Kind  looks,  that  cheer  the  fallen,  not  reprove — 
Erin !  thy  daughters — lovely  as  thy  land, 

Pure  as  the  snow,  and  tender  as  the  dove — 
Vision  of  beauty !  now  before  me  stand ; 
Waving  a  last  farewell,  with  each  white,  fairy  hand. 

vr. 

Thy  sons — with  souls  and  eyes  cITulging  fire, 
Whoso  gcn'rous  blood  runs  riot  in  their  veins  *, 

Whor.e  during  deeds  shall  not  with  them  expire  ; 
*]  han  whom  a  nobler  race  not  Earth  contains  : 
Bold,  ardent,  brave — witness  tlie  battle-plains 

Where  Wellcsley  fought  in  well  contested  strife- 
Wild  as  the  wave ;  with  hearts  where  passion  reigns 

Fiercely,  yet  still  with  tendVest  feelings  rife  : 

Farewell  to  tlios?,  to  al! — the  friends  of  dawning  life ! 


26* 


30£ 


PALMYRA^ 


PALMYRA. 


Whose  aro  those  walls,  mid  sands  and  deserts  rndip, 
In  wide  decay,  magnificently  strewed  ? 
Those  columns,  that  uplift  their  forms  sublime^ 
The  giant  viclors  of  unconrj'ring  Time  ? 
Those  palace*  ?  who  reared,  amid  the  wild, 
Von  marble  mount — pillars  on  pillars  piled — 
Work  of  Io:ig  years,  which  nges  have  not  wrecked? 
Who  bade  llicm  rise— what  princely  architect? 
Strange — that  wiiere  Nature  shows  but  dust  and  death, 
Where  heaves  the  sand  before  the  whirlwind's  breath ; 
Where  stunted  shrubs  live  but  to  droop,  and  die. 
And  sickens  Earth  beneath  a  burning  sky  ; 
Where  the  cool  waters  llect  before  the  ray, 
That  drinks  the  desert  dry  ere  noon  of  day  ,' 
Where  barrenness  is  stamped  upon  the  soil- 
Nought  to  supply  man's  need,  or  crown  his  toil. 

The  plains  afford how  strange  'tis  to  our  eyes, 

To  see  this  marvel  of  his  skill  arise  ; 

Tiiis  wonder  of  his  pow'r,  his  might,  his  skill, 

In  majesty  of  grace  surviving  still ! 

O  Man,  thou  mystery  !  immortcil  mind, 
In  senseless  clay's  ignoble  clotl  confined  ! 
Majestic  trifler  !  trembling  o'er  the  tomb. 
Thou  buildcst  mighty  works — alas  !  for  whom  ? 
Thy  spirit  may  embrace  eternity  ; 
But  brief's  the  time  on  earth  allotted  thee : 
E'en  ere  the  polished  stone  contracts  a  rust, 
The  hand  that  bade  it  shine  is  empty  dust. 


.,  I  p»|,i*ii|(   ii«j|  MM^i^VV^^qr 


PALMYRA. 

Thou  breath !  lliou  vapour,  fleeting  as  the  wind 
That  s|iecds  away,  nor  loaves  a  trace  Ijehind  ! 

City  of  Pahns  !  upon  t!iy  solitiulo, 
With  no  unhallowed  Ibclirii^s,  I  intrude. 
A  stranger  fro;n  afar — my  foot.stpp  falls 
Lonely  and  sad,  within  tliy  marble  halls ; 
^[y  sc'lf-convcrHiug  words,  upon  mine  ear 
Echoed  from  pilLired  courts*,  sound  strange  and  drear  '. 
But  from  thy  mighty  fin?-?,  and  tornploi  proad, 
There  comes  a  solemn  voice — not  high — not  loud  ; 
But  speaking  to  the  heart  with  the  deep  tone. 
Wherewith  the  grave  makes  its  stern  secrets  known. 
Thou  tellcst  of  a  time,  when  thou  wast  gay — 
Of  the  far  glories  of  a  distant  day  : 
Of  wild  ambition,  soaring  in  its  flight, 
Of  hopes  that  soeincd  too  lair  to  dread  a  blight ; 
Of  beauty  and  of  bliss,  the  joy  of  Ufe, 
Of  passions  tierce,  of  anger's  deadly  strife ; 
Of  learning  and  of  wisdom — sophists  sacc — 
Of  lettered  pride,  the  critic's  pungent  page  ; 
Of  sceptred  rule,  tlie  warrior  ar.d  the  priest ; 
Of  love,  for  human  hearts  the  charm  not  least.' 
(.)f  these  tliou  tellcst  me — of  all  that  gave 
Jiife  to  thy  streets  ;  then  v/hisp'rest  thou — 'The  Grave  '/' 
The  Grave — the  Grave  that  beauty  and  that  bliss, 
Tiiose  hearts  and  hopes,  absorbed  in  its  abyss. 
All,  all  within  the  dark,  th'  engulfing  tomb, 
Have  sunk,  and  found  of  earthly  things  the  iloom, 
All,  all  are  gone ;  and  thou,  in  lonely  state, 
Mourn'st  mid  tha  wilderness  thus  desolate. 


303 


■■^ff"W<f«^F' 


304 


BELSIIAZ/AR. 


City  of  Palms  !  I  lay  unto  my  heart 
Thy  warnliiT;  worJ-i,  anJ  gird  ma  to  depart : 
And  as  I  leave  t!iy  walls,  nor  wis!i  to  stay^ 
Tliua,  wlien  tliesjolomn  summons  calls  away, 
M  vy  my  aoiil  q  ill  w.tliotit  onj  Kiig'rinjj  sigh, 
hi  earilily  ho.no;  and  soak  the  blissful  sky. 


BELSHAZZAR. 


I. 


Bei.sitazzak  sat  with  his  lords  around  ; 
And  his  eye  flashed  joy  at  themnsic's  sound: 
As  he  drained  from  the  goblet  the  purple  draught, 
And  his  courtiers  givily  the  red  wine  qnaftVd. 


H. 


Superb,  on  his  brow,  blazed  the  diadem  ; 
Hung  halo  of  fire  round  its  ev'ry  gem  : 
And  his  jewelled  girdle  that  glare  outvied, 
Like  Orlorfs  belt  in  its  lustre's  pride. 


in. 


Lamps,  countless  as  bells  of  Ocean's  foam, 
Glanced  light,  like  noon,  thro'  that  princely  dome 
And  the  banquet-board  with  its  glitt'ring  gold. 
Shot  splendour  that  sight  could  scarce  behold. 


IV. 


And  proud  dames  sat  in  dazzling  array, 
And  their  dark  eyes  burned  with  a  haughty  ray  : 
And  their  foreheads  shone  bright  as  the  sunlit  snow, 
With  black  arches  curved  o'er  the  stars  below. 


UPP^B*"""^ 


mmm^mmm^'m^vimtm 


BELSIIAZZVU. 


305 


V. 

And  the  tresses  thick  of  tlieir  ebon  halir 
Like  the  raven  ringlets  of  young  Mght  were  ; 
When,  smiling  o'er  gate  of  tlio  glowing  West, 
She  wooes  tired  day  to  his  dewy  rest. 

VI. 

Each  like  a  queen,  on  her  throne  of  slate, 
In  glory  of  gems,  and  of  rich  rob.^s  sate  ; 
And  as  revellers'  si  "Uis  waxed  wild  and  hig!), 
Beamed  beauty  and  love  from  her  radiant  eye. 

MI. 

Tiara  and  tm-ban  arose  to  view, 
And  lints  of  Tyre  encliantiaont  threw. 
And  o'er  wreathed  roses,  the  waving  plimic 
Soft  abadcd  the  choice  flower's  frsigranl.  bloom. 

VIII. 

Praises  to  gods  of  silver  and  brass, 
With  incense-clouds,  rose  oVr  that  gorgeous  mass  ; 
'Till  thehigh-hinig  lamps  s!iow..d  faintly  and  dim  : 
But  the  God  of  their  life, they  praised  not  Ilim. 

ix. 
What  change  hiith  com?  o'er  thoir  mirthful  mood  ? 
Wlvat  fear  hath  fettered  the  joyous  blood  ? 
Spirit  of  horror  !  what  death-like  chiU 
Shoots  cold,  o'er  each  heart,  its  icy  thrill  ? 


X. 


Yon  spectral  hand— at  its  touch  of  power. 
Withers  the  pride  of  that  festal  hour  :. 


,   * 


30G 


BKLSHA'/ZAR. 


•s 


Beauty,  aiul  valour, -alike  turn  pale  : 
Stroll;;  Ihabstreaible,  and  linn  hearts  fail, 

XI. 

Hark  to  tlio  trumpet's  terrific  sound, 
I'lchoing  fierce  its  knell  around 
Flash  hostile  swords  thro'  the  midnight  gloom — 
And  i3c!s!iazzar  sleeps  in  a  gory  tomb. 

XII. 

The  Sun  looked  forth  from  iho  skies  thj  n?xt  morn  : 
B'U  a  dark  clou  J  hunj  o'er  that  city  forlorn. 
Auvl  from  Bibylou's  walls  the  banners  wida 
Waved  victVy's  iiues  o'er  her  fallen  pride. 

xni. 
But  a  few  brief  years  soon  sped  away  ; 
A  ltd  the  Medo  and  llic  Pcrisian — where  were  they  ? 
Time's  stream  swept  on  with  res'stless  flow, 
And  victors  and  vanqiiishcd  alike  lay  low. 

XIV. 

dory  of  man's  but  a  fading  flower ; 
Princes  descend  from  their  pomp  of  power  r 
The  peasant,  too,  leaves  his  humble  shed, 
Blending  his  bodies  with  imperial  djad. 

XV. 

E  irth's  mighty  myriads  resign  their  breath  ; 
Yet  deem  not  the  vict'ry  thine,  pale  Death  ! 
For  preciou.H,  to  Ilim  who  reigns  above, 
Isj  the  treasured  dust  of  the  Saints  of  Ilia  lovto. 


m.'.'m)m<»»".'i:      BW I  l.^pHPUfimp^T^jl^ 


•"Wi"*P«'"«¥l».«-J"'"iUIJW* 


PETER  THE  HERMIT  S  ADDRESS. 


307 


XVI. 

The  clod,  laid  cold  in  the  churne!  cell, 
The  dead,  that  lowly  in  durl-.noss  dwell — 
Arrayed  in  beauty  wliicli  ne'er  can  die, 
Shall  blooi\i;  when  yon  stars  forsake  the  sky. 

XVII. 

Oh!  ir.ine  b.3  .'/.vro!;  ;-.l:op  on  Joan's  breist, 
When  tliis  fr-iil  fo.ai  rao.ihL'rs  in  I'l'^lcis  rest  : 
O  King  of  Kin^s!  unio  me  be  it  given. 
Too  change  this  j  cor  liut  for  a  homo  in  hcavon. 

PETER  THE   HERMIT'S  ADDRESS. 


I  co'ir,  from  the  hsnd  Oi''  ilic  svrcrd  v.iul  tho  :-!iriiiC- 
From  the  war-i;.w-pt  plains  of  Piil'  i'iti; , 
And  its  hcHowrd  Mil;-,  wl-cre  the  vliiir.ge  S'.vcet 
Is  trodden  in  d.  ol  by  Foyniin  feet  : 
The  wine-press  founis  v.itli  a  purple  flood  ; 
But  that  cobtly  juice  is  the  Cliristian's  blcod  : 

II. 
Where  the  Holy  Cily— in  evil  hour 
Shackled,  enslaved  by  the  Infidel  pow'r— 
Sj)readeth  her  liands  to  Him  on  higli  ; 
And  lives  but  to  sec  her  children  die  : 
The  daughters  and  sons  of  her  bleeding  breast, 
Trampled,  and  torn,  by  its  rage  unblest. 


,  1 


303 


rEXEP.  THE  HERMITS  APDRESS. 


nr. 
Unscathed  have  I  sped  thro'  the  desert's  air, 
Witli  unsandallod  Ibot,  iiiiJ  bosom  bare : 
Uprolled  the  cartl-.quukc  its  waves  hi  vain  ; 
Uplifted  tho  surging  sea  its  mane  : 
Ar.d  demons  arcic.  \,  iu:  Iiostile  sway, 
Proudly  opposing'  mir-C  cnv/ard  wny. 

jv. 

Yet  dar.ntlcss  all  niy  cci;i\-:C  v/i!l  I  keep, 

Till  all  Christcndoi.i  U^r'Ma  at  my  summons  deep  ; 

The'  t'liis  brow  bo  GCiiMe;!,  and  tiiis  bosom  gored, 

By  tho  Ktcol  accursed  of  the  Paynim  sword  ; 

Onward  I  speed  myjonru'^y  afar, 

P.,ccklossof  d;:!'T,'rcr  auujtcvmitar. 


Hear,  OIIoa\'r.r.— wide  Et-.n!]— and  thou  Sea  ! 
Pve  sworn  that  Salem  lil.rJil  yet  bo  free  : 
Give  oar  to  tliat  hi;.:'',  tl.at  holy  vow  — 
Pve  sworn  by  u\g  li;;ljt  on  Time's  ancient  brow, 
By  iho  priceless  blood  on  Calvary  poured — 
The  Christian  sliall  be  to  his  rights  restored. 

VI. 

By  th'  unburicd  bones  on  the  desert's  sand , 
By  the  loud  himcnt  of  the  tortured  land ', 
By  th'  unsoprdchred  duht — by  the  holy  shrine — 
Christian  !  tl;c.ie  walls  sliail  yet  be  thine. 
By  the  deathless  spirit  Vkllhin  mc  stirred, 
Fve  sworn  ;  and  Ileav'n  hath,  propitious  licard. 


"l>lli.4fitifJ(Pf.«»RI 


PETER  THE  HEEMIT's  ADDRESS. 


309 


vn. 
E;np3rors !  spaeJ  from  your  palace  bow'rs ; 
Nobles !  ride  forth  from  your  castled  tow'rs  : 
Sharpen  the  sword,  and  harness  the  stood  ; 
Let  Chivalry's  strength  bid  the  battle  bleed: 
Burnish  the  blade,  make  keon  the  dart — 
Till  dimmed  be  its  shine  in  the  Infidel's  heart. 

virr. 
Monarchs  !  ye  mighty  ones,  Oh !  hear ; 
Lord,  and  liege !  to  my  voice  give  ear : 
Prince  and  vassal,  like  ocean  deep, 
Onward — onward,  to  conflict  sweep ; 
The  proud,  the  moan,  the  lowly,  the  high — 
To  the  help  of  the  Lo.'-d  draw  nigh,  draw  nigh  !• 

IX. 

Spirit  of  War  !  I  bid  tlicc  avv'ake  ; 
Souls  of  the  mighty  !  your  sleep  forsake : 
Battle  I  array  thy  fearful  form — 
Thy  banner  black  cloud,  thy  steed  the  storm  : 
Thy  breath,  the  blast  of  the  desert's  wind, 
That  passes,  aad  leaves  but  death  behind. 

X. 

Meroz !  a  bitter  cursing  was  thine  - 

But  a  tenfold  curse  on  him  and  his  li:ie — 

E'en  to  the  latest  gasp  of  time — 

The  wrotch  who  burns  not  with  ardour  sublime  ; 

Who  shuns  in  enacting  a  hero's  part, 

To  shed  in  this  cause  the  best  blood  of  his  heart. 

27 


'■4  f 


310 


m  ■ 


¥^t 


JESUSALEM. 


XI. 


Woe,  woe.  to  the  slave,  whose  cow*rd  blood 
Boils  not  in  his  heart  like  Egypi':>  flood ; 
When  down  the  cataract's  awful  steep, 
Thunders  the  rage  of  its  waters  deep : 
That  torrent  sinks  in  the  gulf  profound — 
So  be  his  name  in  oblivion  drowned. 


xir. 
But  glory  to  him,  the  blest,  the  brave, 
Who  wins  in  this  cause  a  warrior's  grave  : 
Brighter  than  dreams  of  the  poet's  brain, 
Triumph  shall  gild  the  bed  of  the  slain  j 
The  Chief  who  dares  for  the  Cross  to  die, 
Haloed  by  Heav'n,  in  his  grave  shall  lie. 

XIII. 

The  Cross  the  star  of  our  course  shall  be, 
To  guide  us  to  glory,  by  land,  by  sea  ; 
The  Cross  shall  be  our  banner,  our  light. 
Our  beacon's  blaze,  our  flag  in  the  fight : 
Contempt  on  his  soul,  and  his  race  be  hurled, 
Who  fails  to  smite  when  that  flag's  unfuried.' 


JERUSALEM. 


I. 


Jerusalem  !  thou  city  of  the  great  Eternal  King  ! 

The  spirit  of  unnumbered  years,  comes  o'er  me  as  I  sing ; 


JERUSALEM. 


311 


1  view  lliy  fallen  tow'rs,  and  tombs,  and  piles  of  ruin  grey : 
And  think  npon   thy  glorious  sons :  thy  children — where  are 
they  ? 

* 

II. 

Monarch  and  mighty  one  of  old,  pro|)het  and  royal  seer, 
(^hicf  captains,  high  estates,  and  priests  of  princely  rank, appear, 
I  see  their  wondrous  shadows  sweep  in  radiant  glory  past ; 
Like  clouds  upon  the  whirlwind's  wing,  when  morning  swells  the 
blast. 

III. 
l-iiko  golden  clouds  on  tempest's  wing,  when  sun  of  morn  looks 

dowii 
O'v-T  warring  winds,  in  majesty,  with  sceptre's  sway  and  crown  ; 
When  from  his  palace  in  the  cast,  his  beauteous  pomp  rolls  out; 
Tlie  storms  exulting  hail  him,  and  the  stars,  departing,  shont. 

IV, 

Those  forms  of  light,  in  vision  bright,  float  transiently  away  ; 
Hut  lo  I  o'er  earth,  bursts  forth  a  sun,  at  whose  omnific  ray. 
Tiic    dead — laid    deep  in    dreamless  sleep — rending  the  silent 

tomb, 
Siiall  rise  and  reign  a  thousand  years,  in  life's  unfaded  bloom. 

V. 

lie  comes !  He  comes  !  o'er  Zion's  walls — plenteous  in  truth  and 

grace, 
To  gather  in  her  scattered  sons.  His  ancient,  chosen  race  ; 
Beauty  for  ashes,  oil  of  joy,  and  balm  for  ev'ry  woe, 
Jeshurun's  God,  to  her  loved  tribes,  shall  bounteously  bestow. 


312 


TO  THE   BIBLZ. 


VI. 

Tho'  enemies,  and  aliens,  long  in  her  blest  courts  have  trod, 
Unhallowed  hands  have  strewed  in  dust  the  holy  house  of  God  : 
Yet  now  her  chains  are  breaking,  and  the  dark  clouds  fleeing 

fast; 
And  soon  her  ransomed  sons  shall  sing — 'tlie  tyranny's  o'eipast !' 


TO  THE  BIBLE., 


Fount  of  Eternal  Wisdom !  while  I  gaze 
Upon  thy  waters,  and  behold  them  flow, 
Life,  beauty,  health,  dispensing  here  below  ; 
Thy  healing  streams,  and  Eartli  her  youthful  days 
Renewing,  where  each  crystal  current  strays  ; 
The  light  of  glory — paradisal  green 
Enriching  her  wliere'er  thy  course  is  seen, 
All  bursting  into  bloom  from  night  profound — 
Life,  lustre,  loveliness,  above,  around  ; 
1  pause — and  ask  myself,  in  sad  amaze, 
Why  my  soul  sinksj  why  blessed  hope  decays  ? 
llast  thou  no  answer.  Soul  ? — 'Yea  !  I  have  slept ; 
The  whiteness  of  my  garments  have  not  kept ; 
And  therefore  droop !' — Hear  what  the  Saviour  says, 
Desponding  Soul !  and  let  thy  mood  be  praise.. 
'•Tho'  scarlet  were  thy  sins,  yet  washed  by  Me, 
"Thou  shalt  more  white,  more  pure,  more  spotless  be, 
"Than  wool,  or  snow,  in  stainless  purity. 
"Come,  weary  ones,  to  me  :  qiiick,  speed  your  flight ; 
"My  yoke  is  easy,  and  my  burden  light." 


.^M^mmmww-n^'f.m-Vi.li-i  l'mmn\>t-mf  ip-niji 


TO  THE  WORLD.     BURIAL  AT  SBA. 


31S 


TO  THE  WORLD. 


O  Mockery  !  thou  false,  deceitful  World ! 
How  do  we  clutch  thee  with  tenacious  grasp, 
How  closely  to  our  hearts  thy  form  we  clasp ! 
E'en  as  the  ivy  round  the  ruin  curled, 

Thus  clings  the  heart  to  thee,  e'en  to  its  final  gasp- 
Thou  art  indeed  a  ruin :  and  the  storm 
Of  desolation  o'er  thy  pride  is  hurled ; 

And  dark  dec:iy  corrodes  thy  fragile  form. 
Who  leans  on  thee,  leans  'gainst  a  crumhling  wall- 
Still  tott'ring  from  tlie  top  unto  the  dust, 
Deceivcst  thou  of  mortal  Man  the  trust ; 
Who,  when  he  hopes  thy  help,  then  chief  doth  full. 
Vain  mockery  !  1  turn  tow'rd  Heav'n,  from  thee  r 
There  shall  my  heart,  my  home,  my  treasure  he. 


n 


THE  BURIAL  AT  SEA. 


1. 

The  skies  were  dark  with  dusky  night, 
On  outstretched  wing  the  vessel  flew', 

Upon  whose  deck,  hy  lantern's  light, 
We  stood— a  sad  and  chosen  few. 

n. 

nimdreds  Were  hushed  below':  on  deck 
One  sleeper  slept  more  sound  than  they  *, 

For  there— of  early  hopes  the  wreck— 
An  infant,  shrouded,  coffined,  lay. 
27* 


''r, 


tu 


THE  BURIAL  AT  SZJ^ 


m. 


A  fair  young  child,  whose  spirit  light 
Had  parted  on  the  wide,  wide  sea; 

Taken  to  upper  worlds  its  flight, 
From  earth  and  all  its  troubles  free. 


IV. 

And  we  had  met  o'er  that  loved  child, 

To  pay  our  simple  fun'ral  rite; 
To  make  its  bed  in  waters  wild. 

And  breathe  that  babe  our  last  'good  night  !^ 

T. 

We  give  tliy  body  to  tlie  deep — 

Sister  !  and  friend  of  youthful  years  I 

Dark  is  thy  bod  of  breathlesa  sleep  ! 
O'er  ocean's  flood  rain  fast  our  tears  t 

VI. 

Sadly,  below  the  sullen  wave, 
Thy  loved  dust  sinks  to  its  long  home ; 

Would  that  thine  were  a  gentler  grave,    *^"^ 
Where  storms  ne'er  rock,  nor  billows  foam  ! 

VII. 

Would  that  beneath  the  spreading  yew, 
Where  heaves  the  earth  with  many  a  mound; 

Where  pious  bands  fresh  garlands  strew. 
And  wild  flow'rs  deck  the  hallowed  ground; 

vin. 
Where  village  maids  bright  chaplets  bring, 
And  rosy  wreaths  to  bind  each  bed; 


^WW^WWWW^?fW?"W 


■niE  DYING  BARD. 


315 


While,  morn  and  e'en,  the  red  breasts  sing, 
Sweet  warbhng  o'er  the  silent  dead — 

IK. 

Would  thou  wert  laid  in  gentle  peace, 
Thy  green  grave  roofed  with  grassy  sod;'  • 

Till  the  blest  morning  of  release. 
When  saints  shall  rise,  and  reign  with  God  r 

X 

I  hear  the  sea-dirge  loudly  swell ; 

The  depths  lift  up  their  voice  and  weep :; 

Old  Ocean  tolls  his  hollow  knell- 
Dull  ear  of  death  !  iiow  sound  thy  uleep ! 

XI. 

Sister !  farev/ell !  away,  away, 

Bounds  o'er  the  brine  our  fleet-winged  steed- 
Tho'  tiivio  may  bring  a  happier  day, 

Long  \vith  this  wound  shall  memory  bleed  I 

THE  DYING  BARD. 

I. 

The  starof  the  dawn  grew  dim  on  high;' 

For  a  faiyor  light  illumed  the  sky  : 

And  the  avn,  attired  with  his  crown  of  gold, 

His  gorgeous  garb,  all  bright  to  behold, 

Looked  kingly  down  with  a  royal  smile — 

His  courtioM,the  clouds,  glad  gazing  the  while. 

A  dazzling  fire  over  Ocean  played, 

And'ihc  winds  and  waters  sweet  music  made  r 


^mm^F!i^:w  'I'l"*-" 


1  Pll  J^W    l|ll 


316 


THE   DTT^w   BARD. 


Laughed  the  green  Earth — her  heart  was  gay ; 
Blithe  were  the  fields :  nor  man  less  than  they. 

Then  rose  a  Bard  from  liis  sleepless  bed ; 
His  eye  was  bright — but  its  pow'r  had  fled ; 
His  cheek  was  pale ;  his  brow,  with  the  dew 
Of  death,  was  damp  :  for  his  hours  were  few. 
lie  looked,  from  his  lattice,  above  the  sea ; 
Whose  waves  on  that  shore  rolled  wide  and  free  : 
He  gazed  where  the  orient  flamed  afar, 
Where  Morning  upwheeled  her  glitt'ring  car. 

'Tis  strangle — the  eye ;  just  ere  life  be  gone, 
Oft  burns  with  a  light  that  in  health  ne'er  shone  r 
And  with  that  unearthly  fire,  his  oyo 
Blazed  up ;  as  these  words  to  mine  ear  came  nigh. 

II. 
*  Welcome,  bright  dawn  !  the  last  for  me  on  eartli — 
Thou  herald  of  a  glorious  day  on  high  ! 
Refulgent  Morn  hath  gilded  all  the  east ; 
And  the  night-clouds  fleet  noiselessly  away. 
Welcome,  once  more,  thou  harbinger  of  heav'n ! 
Sun  of  our  world!  w^hosc  universal  ray 
Gladdens  all  climes  ;  still  brio;ht'ninij  at  their  hour 
Of  visitation.     Revels  thus  my  Soul 
In  glory,  beauty,  pow'r — foretasted  bliss — 
E.xistence  everlasting.     As  yon  clouds, 
That  fleet  before  the  golden  smile  of  morn. 
Thus,  from  within,  each  darksome  shade  is  driv'n  ; 
And  brighter  than  the  congregated  beams, 
Which  thousand  morns  have  shed  upon  this  earth, 
Swells  o'er  my  soul  the  light  of  Love  divine. 


't 


' 


THE  DTING   BARD. 

As  o'er  yon  calm,  and  glittering  ocean,  play 
The  white  sca-birdd,  with  plumy,  noiseless  wing. 
While  streaming  sunlight  gliddons  all  the  deep  ; 
Thus,  in  tlie  pure  serene  of  heav'nly  dxy, 
Thai  floats  around  ine— hover  angel  Ibnns, 
In  cr:iiMi3nts  fairar  than  th'  unHillen  snow. 

0  Earth  !  how  bright,  how  beautiful  thou  art ! 
Wiiat  hadst  thou  been,  if  Sin  h  id  no^n-  defaced 
Thy  loveliness  !  In  this,- thy  ruinod  state, 

Still  beautiful  beyond  the  poet's  drcanv. 

Thou  Ocean  !  with  thy  white,  and  curling  wxves— 

Each  with  its  sparkling  cresl,andsilv'ry  mane, 

Like  a  proud  steed— bounding  above  tlie  blue 

Expanse ;  that  seems  a  woild  where  beings  dwell 

Too  pure  for  matter's  less  ethereal  frame  : 

And  thou,  broad  sky,  o'ercanopy>"ng  all 

Beneath,  as  with  the  palace-dome  of  hcav'n, 

Studded  with  stars;  which  seem  the  watchful  eyes 

Of  spirits,  keeping  war'  for  favoured  man  ; 

Ye  flow'rs  !  whose  beauty  was  to  me  as  lleav'n, 

In  happy  cliildliood-when  my  days  were  sweet, 

My  dreams  of  paradise— if  mid  the  fields 

Or  'mong  the  garden's,beds,  I  caught  your  smile  v 

E'en  from  the  simple  daisy  on  the  hill. 

With  its  young  offspring  round  it,  to  the  pride 

Of  plants  exotic,  in  the  hothouse  ranged  : 

1  loved  you  all— bright  transitory  things ! 
Farewell  !  accept  my  parting  benison. 


an 


if''' 

m 


:ri  : 


318  THE   DYING   llARD. 

Farcwoin  I  ntancl  upon  the  voiceless  shore 
Of  tho  dread  deep,  that  all  must  one  d.iy  cross  — 
And  view,  hoyond  its  intervening  oulf. 
Worlds  fairer  than  the  fairest  realms  of  earth  ; 
Skies  brighter  than  yon  dome  m:ifrnificent, 
With  all  its  stars  ;  blossoms  that  never  fade  ; 
Friends  faiihfuller  than  tho  beloved  of  earth  : 
IIiM, first,  last,  beat,  Creator,  Saviour,  Cod  ! 

O  Tiiou  Redoomor !  by  these  bleeding  wounds, 
That  \vc\ii  a  crimson  flood  on  Calvary — 
Hasten  the  hour  when  all  Thy  Truth  shall  know  t 
Earth,  from  its  utmost  bounds,  echo  Thy  praise  : 
When  error,  sin,  blindness,  and  guilty  woe, 
iNo  more  shall  scatter  round  funereal  shade; 
But  all  bo  gathered  in  Thy  fold.     For  mc — 
Could  there  be  grief  in  Ileav'n — my  soul  would  \vcop 
With  everlasting  woe  ;  for  all  its  sin. 
Baseness  of  heart,  ingratitude  intense. 
But  Thou  art  merciful,  and  these  forsiv'n. 
Now  take  me  to  Thyself;  and  let  me  bo 
A  monument  of  mercy — wliich  the  blest, 
Wond'ring,may  view  ;  and  praise  Thy  Name  for  over  '. 


NOTES 

ON  TIIK 

MISCELLANEOUS  FOEMG. ' 

Pa<re  25G.    The  Defence  of  Dorry.    Stz.  HI.  line  3. 

The  hmhj  of  ihcir pastor-chit f  lay  rnouliVr'nig  in  (he  grave  ; 

And  neur  dosed  its  narrow  roof  o'er  patriot  more  hrave. 

The  Author  was  reminded,  after  writing  this  piece,  that  tlie 
scene  of  ^Ir.  Walker's  death  was  at  a  distance  from  London- 
derry. But  ho  very  readily  quoted  the  words  of  a  certain  writer ; 
who,  in  a  similar  case,  replied— "no  matter—the  city  is  taken ;" 
and  so  refused  to  correct  an  oversight  in  his  work.  And  in  the 
same  spirit  our  Poet  exclaimed— 'The  Defence  of  Derry  is  ac- 
complished.   The  Poem  is  written ;  and  so  let  it  remain.' 

Page  275.    To  the  River  Treat.     Stz.  L  lines  3,  4. 

Winter's  rage  hath  come  and  gone ;  - 

But  no  bonds  he  had  for  thee. 

The  River  Trent  is  in  the  Colborno,  Newcastle,  and  Victoria 
Districts,  Upper  Canada.  In  such  a  climate,  it  is  a  very  remark- 
able circumstance ;  if  a  river  is  not  frozen  over,  so  as  to  bear  the 
heaviest  loads,  during  the  winter.  The  Poem,  however,  through- 
out, contemplates  more  particularly  that  portion  of  the  T  ^nt,  on 
which  the  village  of  Frankford  is  situated.  Its  current  is  very 
swift  in  that  vicinity  ;  and  the  rapids,  within  the  space  of  a  few 
miles,  are  numerous.    At  Frankford  the  river  never  freezes.  The 


-'-*J(PIH  ^^  I  1     »,lli   ^ 


m 


41 


320 


NOTES. 


Bay  of  Quinte  lias  been  considered  by  geologists  as  the  cmbau^ 
vhure  of  this  river.     Tlie  lake  referred  to  is  Lake  Ontario. 
I^igc  286,    Caramania — the  ancient  Lycia. 

Pages  309,  310.     Peter  the  Ilcrniit's  Address. 

The  Amiiorhas  appended  a  note,  in  respect  to  some  cypres-- 
Bions  used  in  this  piece.  Tliongh  conirary  to  the  spirit  of  trtie 
religion,  such  language  seemed  to  liim  to  agree  with  the  'frantic 
fanaticism  of  the  old  Hermit.'  And,  of  course,  the  Poet's  design 
was  merely  to  represent  him,  without  any  undue  colouring,  as 
acting  out  the  character  which  history  attributes  to  him.  It  will 
also  readily  occur  to  the  Reader — that  Peter  had  been  a  soldier, 
before  he  became  a  Hermit. 

Page  294.    On  Transcendentalism,    line  3. 

^Eqiiolutlcvm.     See  Horace's  jcurney  to  Brundusiuin. 

Pages  289 — 293.  Several  notes,  a  npcnded  by  our  author  to 
th(se  critiques  on  the  principal  poets  of  ancient  and  modern  times, 
are  omitted :  in  consequence  of  liie  liaiitatitsn  of  both  time  and 
space. 

It  is  believed  that  readers,  in  general,  would  prefer  that  a  few 
pnges  should  be  occupied  with  poems,  which  would  otherwise  be 
(pxcludcd.    This  course  has  therefore  been  adopted. 


P-: 


.V-; 


^? 


J 


